Harriet Potter
by tkepner
Summary: Death Eaters expect a boy so Dumbledore hid Harry, temporarily, as a baby girl. Vernon makes it stick and pimps her out. Then her letter comes. Uh oh! Where's Harry? Who IS this Harriet girl? What will Snape do? The people, scenes, and places are J.K. Rowling's, I own nothing. This is a dark story, with references to non-consensual & consensual sex. Not graphic. Various pairings.
1. Potions Lesson

_Death Eaters expect a boy so Dumbledore hid Harry, temporarily, as a baby girl. Vernon makes it stick and pimps her out. Then her letter comes. Uh oh! Where's Harry? Who IS this Harriet girl? What will Snape do? The people, scenes, and places are J.K. Rowling's, I own nothing. This is a dark story, with references to non-consensual & consensual sex. Not graphic. Various pairings._

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

_Some short scenes from "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" by J.K. Rowling, are excerpted in this story. They are used here with her and her publisher's kind forbearance. The characters, scenes, and locations belong to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing of the story except perhaps its deviations from J.K. Rowling's plot._

_**NOTE:This is a dark story, with references to non-consensual and consensual sex. No graphic depictions of sexual encounters are included. Be Forewarned.**_

_**Second Note:** To those who don't think such things are plausible (i.e., that such activities would cause irreparable harm to the girl), primitive societies routinely view 6 and 8-year-old-girls as "ready" for sex — see the Trobrianders, or the Old Testament). As for modern-age kids age 11 & 12 being interested in sex — as I wrote this the news had a story about a 13/12 year-old couple in Britain having a baby, where the girl became pregnant at eleven. They had apparently started having relations while the girl was ten._

_A frequent issue when dealing with incest survivors, based on my readings in psychology, is that they find the experience pleasurable at least some of the time, as sex is supposed to be. This makes them feel ashamed, and that they are somehow "broken," for liking it especially when told to hide their situation from everyone because of dire consequences for them or their family. Without proper counseling, those survivors tend to be aggressive in initiating sexual encounters with older individuals; they simply do not regard such activities as being "wrong," especially if they derive pleasure from doing it. Yes, the statements sound contradictory, but the human mind sometimes deals with trauma by developing coping mechanisms that at times can reinforce the trauma._

**Potions Lesson**

At the start-of-term Hogwarts' banquet, Harriet had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked her. By the end of the first Potions lesson, she knew she'd been wrong. Snape just didn't dislike Harriet — he hated her. That was quite clear after he sneered at her during roll call — as if _she_ knew what fame was — then asking her questions that did not have answers in the first-year book, and finally blaming Harriet for Neville's failed potion. However, as she told herself, she knew exactly how to fix this problem, only this time it would be for her benefit and not Dudley's. All it would take was. . . Mum's Confidence.

Harriet, or Harri as she asked her friends to call her, whispered to Hermione to leave as Harri cleared their table. She would catch up with her, Ron, and Neville, if they got out of the hospital in time, later at the Herbology Entrance to go to Hagrid's hut at three. Otherwise, she would meet Hermione in either the Library or the Common Room.

She placed her books and materials in her purse and carefully put everything else, including her cauldron and its utensils, back where it belonged on the classroom shelves. She then thoroughly cleaned the potions table itself. She deliberately worked slowly until she was the last student in the room. Professor Snape was staring at her and about to say something undoubtedly rude, when she looked up at him, "My I speak with you in private, sir?"

Snape stared at her a moment longer, then swept his arm, and wand, towards the door, making it slam closed.

Leaving her purse at the potion's table, Harriet walked to her professor, weaving between the tables and around the stools, until she was just a step away. She looked up at him. "And no one can see or hear our conversation?" she prompted.

He sneered, but waved his wand and the room became slightly quieter, noises she hadn't noticed before were now silent. Things outside the windows became blurry and ill-defined.

"Now what do you want, Pot-ter," Professor sneered, making it two distinct syllables. Only he could make her name sound like an insult, not even Aunt 'Tunia had managed that.

"I know you dislike me, sir," she started.

"How. . . discerning. . . of you," he interrupted, in a low penetrating voice, making it sound as if only an idiot would have failed to notice.

She started to continue when he interrupted her again.

"How long, Pot-ter, do you intend to continue this. . . _charade_?" He made a dismissive motion with his left hand.

She frowned, puzzled. "Charade?" He had thrown her off track.

"Yes, this, this," he waved his left hand again, "this pretense that you are a girl when we both know you are not. You were born a boy and we both know it. You cannot keep up the spell or glamour forever."

That again, but that didn't put her as far off track as she dreaded. She felt the urge to laugh out loud. If only she _could_ turn herself into a boy. "I'm sorry, sir," she said, making sure that her voice reflected that she was, really and truly, regretful, "but I am a girl." She smiled wryly, "I can prove it." She reached up, popped free the top button of her robe, letting sag open. Then she pulled off her tie, dropped it to the floor, and quickly flipped open the few buttons on her blouse. She dropped her arms to her sides and shook her shoulders to dislodge her robe. As her robe fell to the floor, she pulled her blouse open and threw her shoulders back, allowing her blouse to follow her robe to the floor. Her robe pooled around her feet with her abbreviated blouse behind her. She stood in front of him legs slightly apart, holding her arms out from her sides, her body language clearly declaring, _Look! See!_

Professor Snape stared at the naked girl before him. Harri knew, from the gossips in her dorm, that he had had girls infatuated with him, she knew he had had girls wanting improved grades, she knew he had even had girls hoping to please their families by dating him, all attempt a seduction as she was. But never did the rumours mention a first-year eleven-year-old girl so brazenly stripping before him. She was confident she would succeed where all the others had failed. After all, she had much more practice than those other girls did.

She watched, smiling, as almost reflexively he muttered detection spells. She was kind of surprised at this reaction, what sort of background did he have that the first thing he did when surprised was cast detection spells? It didn't matter in the end, though. They all came up null, she knew, as he failed to see through the non-existent glamour or spell he suspected her of using to hide her true, male form. She was definitely _not_ a boy cross-dressing, under a glamour, or subject to any other external spell that would make people think Harriet was a girl when she wasn't. And her pose displayed that her confidence in that.

Harriet took a quick step forward, as soon as he stopped casting spells, before he had time to react further. She looked up into his face, "If you promise to treat me just like any other student, nothing special. . ." she pulled open the waist of his robe, "I promise to be nice to you." She pulled at his trousers.

Snape, startled at her close approach and actions, took a quick step back, but his hip hit the edge of his desk. He struggled to regain his lost balance. Harriet, pulling on his trousers was certainly a factor in his failing to remain upright and falling backwards onto the floor. Harri, belatedly letting go, fell with him, landing on her hands and knees between his legs.

She grinned as she looked up at the expression on his face. His composure lost, Snape stared at her, clearly astonished, even frightened a little. "Well," she said, "I agree the floor is more comfortable than standing, but you could have warned me, you know." She renewed her attack on his trousers, saying, "we can use a bed later, if you want." She was about to yank them lower when the command came.

"STOP!" he thundered.

She froze. Damn. Usually she was much further along before they recovered enough to start to resist. Usually it was a _What are you doing?_ that she heard as she pulled their trousers and underwear down. She would ignore that — attempting an explanation would ruin her opportunity by giving them time to think. Then came, _Wait! Stop!_ Those were said with more of a panic tone as she grabbed what she had exposed and began to play. That definitely interfered with their thinking. It was quite a joke to her because at that point it was obvious they were getting interested in her _not_ stopping. Before they could get serious, though, and actually try to push her away, she would have already straddled them and any further protests were strictly an afterthought and changed to _Oh my god_, or words to similar effect. All thinking after that was delegated to their "little head" as Aunt 'Tunia called it.

"Stand up. Get dressed," came the orders in a tone that brooked no argument. Uncle Vernon frequently used that tone as well, so her reaction was instant.

She was dressed and standing before he had time to get to his feet. She stared at the floor. Now what? She had never been in this situation before. She missed the professor's puzzled expression fading into its customary sneer.

"What," he said in an almost conversational tone, "was that about?"

She looked up into his eyes, her face an emotionless blank, body language as submissive and non-challenging as possible. Mum's Confidence had fled the field, leaving it to Dad's Consequences. "You don't like me, you'll remove points from me and my House, and you'll unfairly knock down my grades," she said softly. "I was just trying to. . . fix that. To give you a reason to like me, to be fair."

He stared into her eyes. "Have you done that before? Would you. . . share it?" he asked, almost in a whisper.

Unbidden, a stream of photo-like images flashed through her mind of different situations with men before stopping on the last day of school before this summer, before the final grades came out.

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He had locked the classroom door and the four of them were in the corner of the room hidden from the door's window. The lights were off, to make the room appear empty, but the afternoon sun coming in the windows was more than sufficient to illuminate the second floor classroom.

She was looking over her shoulder. Her hands were on the back of the chair, clutching the hem of her dress so that it stayed over her waist. Her knees and ankles were pressing against the wooden spokes of the chair's arms. She could see her teacher's belly and hip as he pressed against her from behind. Behind and to his left, still out of sight of the door, were Dudley and her last year's teacher, their pants discarded on the floor. They were anticipating their next turn. For the teachers, this would be the last time until next fall, and they wanted the most out of it. And Dudley? Well, he was just being Dudley. He had decided to walk her home, so, he figured, why not? At least he never hit her, anymore. She had been in the chair for the better part of half an hour and her knees hurt.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Then it was gone. Buried like it was supposed to be, buried by Confidence with all the rest. Out of sight, so to speak, out of mind. Let someone else remember it. She had never had that happen before when she was behind dad's Consequences.

Professor Snape was still staring at her eyes, but he was blinking rapidly. He looked like he had gotten paler than his normal pasty white, if that was possible.

"Do. Not. Move." He spun and walked into the supply room for the class.

What had happened? She was confused now. Why had she remembered that incident? And so vividly. She didn't want to remember such things. God, how she wished she _was_ a boy.

The professor came striding back into the classroom, his robe billowing around him like it was in a breeze. How _did_ he do that? He had several bottles in his left hand.

He spoke softly, as if he expected her to dash off at any moment, "Harry. . . Harriet," he amended, "I'm going to cast a spell. I'd like your permission. It won't hurt. It will help me and the other professors greatly if you do this."

She looked up at him suspiciously.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, as if giving a huge concession, "If you do this, I promise to treat you just as I do the other students."

_GOOOAAAAL!_ as they said in football. She was doing a mental happy dance. She continued looking at him suspiciously. "Like a Slytherin," she stated, pushing.

He pressed his lips together for a moment, then reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose with his right hand, his wand held loosely against the side of his head. "Yes. Yes. Like a. . . Slytherin." He looked like he had just eaten something very sour.

"Okay," she said, slowly, suppressing her smile. She had gotten what she wanted, and it hadn't even required her doing anything. It took all her control not to start dancing around the room. She could hardly wait to tell mum and dad. Success at no cost!

"Close your eyes."

She did. She heard him muttering something, and then the slight pressure of the tip of a wand pressed against her temple.

"Think about the last time you did something like what you just did. How did the day start, when did this happen. . . ." His voice trailed off, getting softer and softer until she couldn't hear it

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It was early morning, the last day of August, Saturday. Tomorrow she would be going to Hogwarts. But today, today started with Uncle Vernon climbing into her bed, followed a bit later by Dudley.

"Get dressed, Whore." Whore was his pet name for her. He used it all the time in private. In public she was simply _Girl_ or _You_. "We're going to the hotel for the day. Don't shower here, you can waste the hotel's hot water," the overweight man ordered as he finally left her bed and her room. "Leave her alone, Dudley, I don't want to be late," he called from down the short hall. Dudley, grousing, complied. He stopped at the door and looked back at her sprawled on her bed. "Um, Harriet, I hope you have a good time at the new school. And, you know, you get to do what you want." Instead of what my dad forces you to do, was the implied wish, she understood. He was nice sometimes, but he was still a selfish, overweight, bullying, conflicted boy. And her cousin.

Trying to dress slowly is difficult when all you wear is a slip-over almost see-through summer dress and thin, tired sandals.

Uncle Vernon, or, TFS, The Fat Slob, made her wait by the door while he took his sweet time getting ready. Half an hour later, after the family, less her, had finished a late breakfast, the two of them left.

The hotel was nice enough, neither a luxury hotel nor a dive. Its biggest advantage was that it was within walking distance of Grunnings Drills' headquarters. They kept a permanent suite on lease and used it to put up clients and out of city or country visitors. Today the suite was Harriet's. Well, not Harriet's as such, more like Harriet was available there. TFS would bring her here once a month as a treat to clients, vendors, and his associates. It was why he was Vice President of Sales and second only to the President in salary. There was talk of making him company President in December for his part in growing the company so much over the last few years. Expenses were down and profits were up, based on his efforts. He got other perks, as well, from both clients and vendors, so he probably actually earned in trade as much as he made in salary. Although it was Harriet who did the physical work.

She had been here every day for the last week. TFS was losing her until next summer, so he had been throwing one last fling for his best customers and vendors from all over the world. Not all of them were men.

TFS let her shower at regular intervals as some of Grunnings Drills' management personnel visited in the morning (_Have to go in for work Saturday, sorry honey, it's why I get the big bucks_, was their excuse to their girlfriends and wives). Then in the afternoon came the vendors (_Smoozing with the clients dear, a round or two of golf, take all afternoon, sorry dear_ was their excuse). This night, though, was reserved for his big clients in London. Lunch and dinner were simple butter sandwiches for Harriet, one each time; TFS refused to order her anything through Room Service — _you cost me enough as it is_, he had said.

She did get some sleep that night, but not as much as she wanted. On the other hand, she probably wouldn't have been able to sleep for being anxious about going to Hogwarts the next morning anyway, so, she figured, it was probably a wash. At least, when she did sleep, it was a deep sleep with no nightmares. That always made for a good night.

She took a long soaking bath the next morning as she waited for Uncle Vernon to show up. She could never take baths at home. He had gone home just after eight last night, to keep up appearances to the neighbors as a dutiful husband who occasionally worked late and weekends. Not that Petunia cared when or how long he worked, just as long as the money kept rolling in.

The last three clients had left early that morning, before sunrise. They had to be home to go to Church with their families. How they explained being out all Saturday night she didn't understand.

Hypocritical, lying bastards, every one of them, even the nice ones who would talk with her as a person instead of treating her as a sex doll, albeit a very compliant, living, breathing, doll. Their wives and girlfriends must be trusting idiots. Whatever. It gave her a couple of hours of additional rest, and time for a long soak in the tub.

TFS finally showed up at ten. "Lazy slut, get out of that tub. Petunia and Dudley are waiting in the car. Come over here," he dragged her to the unmade bed and made her bend over. "There's just enough time for a quickie, Whore." After, she slipped her green dress on and grabbed her purse. On the way to the station, Dudley pushed her face into his lap and tossed a blanket over her to hide what she was doing. Vernon and Petunia laughed at their son "getting some" while in reality he let her catch a thirty-minute nap. He wasn't _that_ bad a boy.

The memory ended as she got out of the car and Vernon placed her trunk and Hedwig's cage on a King's Cross cart and, unexpectedly, started wheeling it into the train station.

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She stood there, stunned. It had been like doing it all over again only compressed into minutes instead of an entire day. Her stomach clenched in upset. She was taking short, quick breaths, trying to not lose what remained of her breakfast. That was supposed to be buried under mum's Confidence so that she would never have to remember it. For a moment she thought she might just collapse to the floor, it would be easier than standing.

"Here," a bottle appeared in front of her, "drink this." She took the bottle from Professor Snape's hand and downed it without pause. If it had a taste, she didn't notice. "Sit."

She dropped straight to the floor, whether she sat or collapsed would be difficult to say. She didn't notice his exasperated expression at the thought that using a chair simply did not occur to her.

"Stay. I shall return in a moment."

She heard the wizard stalk off to the storeroom again. After a few minutes, she started to shake off the haze. What had just happened? That had been even more vivid than the previous memory, more vivid, even, than the nightmares that plagued her. She shuddered. Hopefully, that would never happen again. Odd though, now that she thought about it, she couldn't really remember what she had just remembered, just that she had remembered something extremely unpleasant. Was it mom's Confidence belatedly acting?

As she puzzled on this, she heard a retching sound from the storeroom. Was the Professor sick? Should she go check? But he had ordered her to stay put, and she knew what happened if she disobeyed that kind of an order. Uncle Vernon and Aunt 'Tunia had beaten that one into her. They were careful to leave no marks, though, didn't want any of the clients to wonder how a little girl got scars like that! No, the wounds they left were inside, where no one could see them. And the scars she did have? Well they blamed those old scars, earned before she was big enough to be valuable, on the car accident — those liars! — that they said had killed her parents.

Professor Snape returned from the storeroom, looking shaken and unsteady.

"Are you all right, sir?" What would happen if he collapsed in here with her? The door was sealed, the windows as well, and nobody outside could hear her yelling. Maybe asking for privacy wasn't such a good idea. Taking a chance on someone walking in might have been more prudent.

He looked at her, then gave himself a shake and straightened. "I am fine, child." Child? She had never heard of him calling any student a child. Just what was going on here?

He walked over to the classroom door, silently opened it, and looked into the hall. The next class would be beginning, soon. "You," he called. There was a frightened scream from the student he had surprised. "Go fetch Professor McGonagall, she should be in her office. Tell her to come immediately. If she isn't there, tap the gargoyle doorknocker and give it the message, say it is an emergency." Then he said, apparently to the students who were waiting to enter the classroom, "Class is delayed, wait out here until I call for you." At the affirmatives from the students, he nodded and closed the door.

He turned and walked back to Harriet, staring down at her. She stared back up, confused.

"Where are the rest of your clothes?"

She blinked at the non-sequitor. "What?"

Patiently, as if dealing with a toddler, he explained, "Your robe, where are your underclothes? You have the tie and a. . . ," he frowned, "almost a blouse, but what of the rest? Where is your skirt? Or trousers? Or underwear?"

Patiently, as if dealing with a toddler, she explained, "The required list said to get: Three sets of plain work robes (black), one plain pointed hat (black) for day wear, one pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar), and one winter cloak (black, silver fastenings). It said nothing about what underclothes were required, and I was quite put out to discover I had to cut up my white dress to make a blouse to wear! Honestly," she said, disgusted. After a pause she added, "Hermione helped me with that. She brought a sewing kit to school," she added.

Professor Snape closed his eyes for several seconds. Harriet was almost positive she saw his lips move slightly as if he were counting.

She could see he was trying not to sneer, or be sarcastic, as he had been throughout the lesson today, and she wondered why he had so suddenly changed. Based on what all the other students had told her she had not expected him abruptly to be nice to her. For goodness sake, she had heard he had even docked a girl points for _breathing_!

"What about your own underwear? Couldn't you have brought blouses and underwear from home?" He was not quite gritting his teeth as he said this, and his intonation indicated he wanted to be more. . . emphatic. . . but was restraining himself.

"Don't have any," she said with a sniff, "I've only had two dresses, a green one and a white one since Christmas. They cost two pounds each at the used clothes store. Aunt 'Tunia was quite put out to spend that much. Says I keep growing out of whatever she buys, and says she spends far too much money getting me new clothes every year."

He stared at her, speechless. Finally, he said, "Didn't the Groundskeeper take you to a clothing store in Diagon Alley?"

She had to giggle at that. "_Professor_, can you picture _Hagrid_ taking me to a woman's dress shop and suggesting I buy _knickers_?" Besides, she was so used to the situation that when she remembered she wanted to buy clothes with her newfound wealth, she was at home and couldn't, and when she was out of the house on her own, she had far more important things to do than that.

The potions professor stared at her again, then pinched the bridge of his nose with his left thumb and forefinger and closed his eyes. He stood like that for a few moments. "Yes. Of course. It would never occur to that great oaf that a little girl might need such things. And if it did he would be too embarrassed to actually do it." He sighed. "And the school store does not carry such items."

It was a good thing that he had his eyes closed or he would have seen the blush that crept over Harriet's face at thought of embarrassing Hagrid. She had done that in the Vault. He hadn't looked her in the eyes the rest of the day. And underwear had been the least of his thoughts, and hers. She supposed she was lucky she hadn't scared him into running out on her immediately after.

"And your. . . friend, Hermione. . . didn't loan you anything?"

Harriet looked out the far windows, "She doesn't know. She only helped me with the blouse when she saw me using my teeth to cut up my sundress. I told her it was old and I had decided to recycle it into another blouse. I was wearing my other dress, so she never noticed."

The door to the Potion's Classroom flew open with a bang as Professor McGonagall rushed in. "What's this about an emergency, Professor Snape?" She glanced at Harriet sitting on the floor. "Has something happened with Harry?"

"Yes," he sneered at her, "You might say something has happened." He studied her a moment. "Come, you need to see this." He turned and started for the storeroom. "I looked and gathered this with Harriet's full permission, so you have nothing to complain about on that issue. But when you see it, you _will_ have something to complain about. I warn you though, it is very unpleasant." Professor McGonagall stared at Harriet, trying to see if there was anything physically wrong as she followed Professor Snape. He looked back at Harriet while ushering the other professor into the storeroom. "Please wait here." Faintly, she heard him say "Professor McGonagall, drink this first. . . ."

Harriet sighed. She hoped Hermione would not be too upset at her not showing up. And Hagrid would probably be disappointed. She hated disappointing the simple giant. Heck, _she_ was disappointed; she had been looking forward to sitting down in his company all day. She _liked_ him.

Her time with him had been fun; she had to say it was probably the best day of her life. She smiled, thinking back to when she had first seen him.

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**Author's Note:**_ I am amazed at the total lack of reviews in the time since I started this story. I'm up to chapter five, over 300 views, and I've only had three reviews. And two were from the same person! So, please let me know what you think of the story, and where it's going._


	2. Cabin in the Sea

**Cabin in the Sea**

"Who's there?" Uncle Vernon shouted. "I warn you — I'm armed!" He was holding a rifle in his hands.

There was a pause. Then —

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.

A giant of a man was standing in the doorway, his face almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard. Despite that you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey. . . ."

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here's Harry!" said the giant.

Harriet looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes."

Harriet wasn't sure if she should be offended that she looked like her dad or happy that her eyes looked like her mom's. Her hair, though, was tied back in a ponytail.

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise as he demanded the giant leave, then made a funnier noise, like a mouse being trodden on, when his weapon was casually twisted into a pretzel and tossed away.

"Anyway — Harry," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here — I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with _Happy Birthday Harry_ written on it in green icing. Nobody had ever given her a cake, not even a slice.

Harriet looked up at the giant. Instead of saying thank you, as she intended, what came out was, "Who are you?"

The giant chuckled.

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

He held out an enormous hand and shook Harriet's whole arm.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. After somehow getting a roaring fire going, the giant sat back down on the sofa. He began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."

The giant chuckled darkly.

"Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."

He passed the sausages to Harriet, who was so hungry she had never tasted anything so wonderful, but she still couldn't take her eyes off the giant. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, she said, "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are."

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts — yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

"Um — no?" said Harriet.

Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry," Harriet added quickly.

"Sorry?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Harriet.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"

He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Harriet was numb, in shock, maybe, over the events last night, as she traveled with Hagrid the next day. Her parents were wizards. She was a wizard, er, witch. Her parents had died to save her life. She, herself, was famous and known to virtually every wizard and witch in the world, as Hagrid had explained several times last night and this morning. And magic. She was going to a magic school. To learn magic. Magic was real, and she could do magic. Everything was whirling around and around in her head so fast she thought her head was going to explode.

It was while they were in the London Underground that Hagrid finally asked the question that clearly had been wearing at him that morning. He apparently hadn't noticed in the cabin's bad light last night.

"Harry, why're yeh wearin' a dress?"

Startled out of her thoughts, Harriet looked up at the giant, "Um, 'cause I'm a girl?" She reached back and patted her ponytail, noticing that it had become lopsided somewhere along their journey.

"Don't be daft! Yer a boy, Lily and James tol' me so themselves! 'Course the 'eadmaster did mention that he spelled yeh when we l'ft yeh at the Dursleys. . . ." his voice trailed off. "But that shoulda worn off last year at the latest, 'e said." Hagrid looked down at the bemused girl. "Well," he said straightening, "maybe it's fer ta best. Don't you worry, none, though, the 'eadmaster, he'll straighten it all out, I'm sure." Harriet sat, more confused than ever. She knew what boys and men looked like; she knew what girls and women looked like. She was a girl, as had been demonstrated to her many, many times over the years. There was absolutely no way she could be a boy. She did _not_ have the proper equipment, or attitude! She started to redo her ponytail, but the old rubber band snapped, so she ran her fingers through her hair, combing it out so it didn't look too bad.

But, if she had been a boy, what would things have been like? Lost in daydreams and speculation, she followed in the big man's wake to their destination.

"This is it," said Hagrid, finally coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, dirty-looking pub. People hurrying by didn't notice it. Their eyes slid from the big book store on one side to the record store on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harriet had the strangest feeling that only she and Hagrid could see it.

For a famous place, it was very dark and grubby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of something, and one was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harriet's shoulder and making Harriet's knees buckle.

Tom glanced curiously at the small girl beside Hagrid, the height contrast was quite comical. The top of her head barely reached the giant's waist. She had the loveliest green eyes he had ever seen, though, partially hidden behind round-eye black-frame plastic glasses. The nosepiece was broken and she had used white tape to fix it.

She had long black hair that fell partway down her back and a thick fringe that reached her narrow eyebrows. She was thin, bordering on boney, as if she never got enough to eat, and was wearing a green sundress that perfectly offset her eyes. The sundress was knee-length with short-sleeves and a collar, a buttoned front, and a fabric belt. She was cute, so cute that he knew that when she grew up she would be drop-dead gorgeous and would need a quaffle-bat to beat away the boys, and probably a few of the girls as well. She looked far too young to be a student, but she _was_ with Hagrid. All he said was, "New student, eh?" to Hagrid. Then he addressed her directly, "You listen to him, now, he knows Hogwarts better than anyone except the Weasley twins. If you do what he says you won't go wrong!"

"Don't be stuffing Harry's head with nonsense, now," said the giant, you could tell he was blushing even through his beard.

"Harry?" Tom looked down at the girl. The boy was due this year for sure, but this was a girl standing here, not a boy.

"Harriet," corrected the girl.

"Ah. Well, welcome to the Leaky Cauldron and the Wizarding World, then, lass." Tom nodded to her, and turned away as another customer came to the bar. Harriet followed Hagrid out the back of the pub.

She watched, entranced, as the bricks in the wall twisted and turned.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

"Blow me!" whispered Harriet.

It was like wandering into a Disney fantasy movie, or perhaps a Dickens movie set but with wizards and witches. The colors, sounds, smells, and people were like nothing she had ever seen. Abruptly, the giant man announced, "Gringotts" and strode off down the street, Harriet again following in his wake, like a rowboat pulled after a big ship. If she hadn't been behind the big man, she probably would have walked into any number of people and things on the crooked street as she looked around. They stopped in front of a big white building with marble columns in front. A strange looking creature with a short beard and long fingers and feet stood guard by the doors.

"That's a Goblin, Harry."

The Goblin bowed them inside and shortly Hagrid led her through an enormous room with many wizards and witches walking around, as well as many more Goblins. Hagrid walked up to a Goblin at an otherwise unoccupied counter. "Morning," said Hagrid. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's vault."

Harriet was becoming annoyed, and slightly offended, at the casual assumption that she was a boy. While she wouldn't have objected to that state of affairs, it should be painfully obvious to anyone looking at her that she was a _girl_.

"You have his key, sir?" The Goblin had ignored Harriet's appearance and taken Hagrid at his word! Was the Wizarding World mad?

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, searching through his many pockets. Harriet wondered what the Goblin would say to the dormice as the giant began emptying his pockets on the counter. The Goblin was clearly annoyed at the trash appearing on his orderly workspace. "Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.

The Goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen," he added handing the rolled parchment to the goblin.

The Goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook, another Goblin of course, led them to a door at the back of the large room.

"Hagrid," Harriet asked, "what's a You-Know-What?"

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

Harriet sighed.

To Harriet's surprise, the door opened to a rock passage and not a normal hallway as she had expected. Griphook led then to what looked like an oversized mining cart with seats and a steering rod. Hagrid had difficulty squeezing himself in place, but Griphook and Harriet easily fit in the padded seats.

After what had to be the most thrilling ride Harriet had ever had, they stopped beside a small Bronze door. Hagrid was looking a bit green and leaned against the wall after climbing out of the cart. Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and, as it cleared, Harriet gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze coins. "Fuck me pink," she whispered. She walked slowly into the vault.

"All yours," said Hagrid.

Harriet spun and looked back at him standing in the door.

"All mine," she said.

"Yes," Hagrid said smiling happily at her reaction.

She turned again and stared at the gold. There were stacks everywhere in the room. It was huge, bigger than her room at the Dursleys!

She reached back and pulled him inside. "How much is it?" she demanded, pointing at the stack of gold coins.

"I dunno. Lots."

She turned to the Goblin. "How much is it?"

He pointed to above the door.

She looked up. There was a counter there, on the inside and above the door. It read 300,001G, 15S, 9K.

"And it's mine," she said again.

The Goblin nodded, as did Hagrid.

"Can I take it all, right now?"

The Goblin and Hagrid looked at each other.

"Er, well, not 'xactly, Harry," said Hagrid.

"Why not, it's mine, right?" She was being belligerent.

"Well, it's yer vault and everthin', but it's serposed to last you all year, soes you can only take out a month's at a time. Yer a minor, you see, and this'ns gotta last yer 'til you're outa Hogwarts, yeh unnerstand?"

She studied him, then turned to the Goblin. "What happens when I take it all out?"

"This is a child's inheritance Vault," he explained. "Each year, on your birthday, the vault is refilled from the Potter Family main vault according to what you have removed. This year is the first year anything is being removed."

Harriet stood quietly, thinking. She looked up at the Goblin. "I want a new vault, one I can take as much out of as I want at a time. I want you to set it up so that the most money I can take out of this vault every month goes into that vault as soon as it can. I want this vault quite empty the day before it refills on my birthday. I want you to take care of it."

"Harry," Hagrid interrupted, "Are yer sure 'bout that?"

Harriet turned back to Hagrid. He had just given her complete and total financial freedom. She would never have to return to the Dursleys again. For years she had listened to the vendors and clients talking about finances while in that hotel room, and she knew a lot about money and investing. And she knew the only way to escape TFS was to have money, and lots of it. A few of the men had been amused at her interest and had indulged in answering her questions; one had even been enthusiastic about it, spending most of his time with her teaching, to the amusement of his fellows.

If the vault renewed as the Goblin said, then by the time she left school in seven years her vault would have over two million "galleons," more than enough for her to live on for the rest of her life, even with very conservative investments. She would never have to depend on a _man_, or _anyone_, to support her. Simply saying _thank you_ was not enough. Happiness, and Confidence, filled her.

Harriet grabbed his hand and turned him around, putting his back to her piles of gold. She smiled. She had learned that he was a simple man, not complicated. He wasn't stupid by any means, but he wasn't very fast on the uptake, give him time and he would figure things out, she was sure. He had, as she had heard it called, a big heart. There wasn't a mean bone in him.

She leaned against him, hard. He was a big man, but he was surprised at her move and he took a step back. And tripped on the stacks of coins at his heels. He fell backwards on the gold coins, sending them cascading all over the room. Taking advantage of his surprise, he was already starting to mumble, "Sorry about the mess," she moved up between his legs, flipping the end of his shirt up over his belt, and quickly loosening his trousers. She heard an "eh?" as he tried to push himself up on his elbows, the sliding coins underneath him making it difficult. She pulled his trousers down just enough and moved further up onto his legs. Hagrid stared at her in dumb shock at what she was doing now.

He was a giant man, but he _was_ a man. Given the right stimulus, he would respond. And Harriet was giving him the right stimulus. Before he could formulate any real resistance to her efforts, it was too late. He was thinking with his "little head," if he could be said to be thinking at all.

"Shouldna done that," Hagrid mumbled, avoiding her eyes as she scooped up coins and dropped them in the bag Griphook had given her. The Goblin had discretely returned to the cart until she had called to him, asking if he had a bag in which to put the money. "Shouldna done that," Hagrid mumbled, again, looking out the vault door.

"Hush, Hagrid," Harriet said firmly. "You did nothing wrong. Or are you saying you hate me?" It was a low blow, no pun intended, but it got his attention. He gave her a hurt look.

"Harry," he said, blushing almost as red as the rust on the torch-holders in the vault, "Yer a student," he continued, whining plaintively, "Tha' could cost me me job!" Now he was staring at the Vault's floor.

"Well, then," she responded, "don't be an ass and tell everyone. If you won't, I won't."

"But we shouldna done that!" Progress, they had moved from _it was all his fault_ to _it was our fault_. "And why did yeh star' tha'?"

Harriet straightened and grinned at him. "Because you gave me something I never expected but always wanted — _freedom_! I never have to depend on someone else for anything. I can live where I want, buy what I want, do what I want, and never, _never_, have to wait for someone else to provide it for me. No one can make me do anything I _don't_ want to do." She stepped over and hugged him. He froze, stiff, afraid to move. Still hugging, she said, "I don't have anything of my own, except what I'm wearing. I wanted to thank you, to give you something for this wonderful gift you gave me. Accept my gift in the spirit it was intended. Be my friend. That's all, just _be my friend_. Now, help me fill this bag."

He shifted from foot to foot, "W'll, okay." He placed a hand on her head. She stepped back and smiled up at him. "Here," she said handing him the half-full bag. He turned away from her and started picking up handfuls of coins. She grabbed a handful and started filling his pockets.

"Wh't 're yeh doing, Harry?" He shuffled away from her.

"You've got far more pockets than I have bags. You're going to be my walking bank for a while."

Bemused, he said nothing more as she dumped handfuls of gold coins in his pockets while he filled the bag until he finally said, "I think that's more'n enough, there lass."

Grinning, she took him by the hand and dragged him back to the cart. Griphook was impatiently waiting. She leaned close to the Goblin and held out a handful of coins to him. "For being so patient with us," she whispered as she dropped them into his hands. He stared at her, shocked. "Remember," she added, "you're going to open a new vault for me and transfer the maximum from this vault to the new one every month." He nodded, as he shoved the coins into his pocket. "And at a discount rate, if you want to keep doing it," she added.

The trip to Hagrid's vault was just as much fun for Harriet as the trip to hers, and she took every opportunity to push up against the giant and embarrass him.

"Harry," he said, blushing, as the cart coasted to a stop, "yeh shouldna do things like that!" He wasn't nearly as unhappy about it as he acted, she knew.

She grinned at him, "But you didn't get sick, did ya?"

"Err, right," was all he said as he climbed out of the cart.

The trip to the surface was a bit slower, it being mostly uphill, but still fun. And just as embarrassing for Hagrid. Griphook had them wait in a small office for a short while as he filled out some paperwork and had her sign parchments. "The first allotment has been shifted. If you need more galleons, you will withdraw them from the new vault," he said, holding a key out to her. She just stared at it, not taking it.

"And where will I put that key?" she asked.

Griphook looked at her and realized, she had no pockets nor bag. He sighed, unhappily, "I will hold the key for you until you return later today. You can keep the key in your school trunk in a protected slot." He placed the key in his pocket.

"Thank you Griphook, I'll remember to recommend your services to my friends. May your gold ever increase." She turned and skipped to the door.

"A most unusual child," Griphook said, looking up at Hagrid.

"Yeah, I'm learnin' that." He followed her out the door.

As Hagrid led her to the next spot on their tour, she saw a tall, well-robed man with extremely blonde hair leave _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_ with a boy with equally blonde hair. "Wow," she said, "That's what I call over-bleaching," watching as they walked away. Hagrid just _harumped,_ watching them. Hagrid dropped her off at the door, saying, "Harry, hope yer don't mind, but I'm going ta pop over to the Leaky Cauldron for something to help settle me stomach. I'll be right back." He handed her the bag of gold.

Nervous, she quietly entered the shop. Madam Maulkin immediately noticed her and steered her into the back. Rather quickly, the woman measured her, fitted her, and told her her robes would be ready in a week. She explained, because Harriet was clearly not a wizard's child, that the robe colors would change to match her sorting House at Hogwarts and the House Shield would appear on the left breast. Hagrid returned just as she was leaving the shop with her pickup receipt.

From Maulkins they went to a bookstore, _Flourish and Blotts,_ and then continued to_ Slug & Jiggers Apothecary, Potage's Cauldron Shop, Eeylops Owl Emporium_, and finally _Ollivander's. _Harriet almost walked past the wand store she was so busy admiring her beautiful snow-white Owl, a gift from Hagrid. And it was a _gift_ because she was Harriet Potter, the _person_, not as a reward or payback for what she did in the vault. Hagrid had made very sure she knew that he had intended to buy her an owl _before_ they went into Gringotts. He had been blushing furiously while explaining. Harriet thought it was rather cute seeing such a rough, tough, big man turning that red in embarrassment, stumbling over his words, when explaining the reason for a gift.

_Ollivander's_ had _Makers of Fine Wands since 382b.c._ written on the door.

After startling them both with his sudden appearance, the old man, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop, said, "Ah yes, yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You look almost exactly like your father. Seems like it was just yesterday when he came for his wand. He favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it — it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Harriet wondered if she should feel offended at again being compared to her father. Or had he been especially effeminate in appearance?

The wand maker moved closer to Harriet, staring at her. She wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your mother, on the other hand, had a wand ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work. You have her eyes."

He stared at her forehead. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly, quickly reaching up and touching her scar as if he could see it through her fringe. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands. . . well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do. . . ."

He turned his attention to Hagrid, as if noticing him for the first time. He seemed to know that Hagrid had been using his broken wand, and was not pleased, saying so in guarded words. But then he turned back to Harriet.

"Odd, though," he continued, as if he had not stopped talking to Harriet, "You seem to be more than you appear." He rubbed his hands together, "This," he declared, "will be a challenge."

Almost an hour later, a tired Harriet gave a yew wand with a phoenix feather core a wave, and sparks flew. Hagrid cheered and clapped, Mr. Ollivander laughed in delight, but ended up mumbling "curious, though."

Harriet looked at the old man, "Curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harriet with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. The phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its sister — its sister gave you that scar." He gestured towards Harriet's forehead. "I expect great things from you, Mr. Potter."

Harriet, for the first time in a long time, reached up and rubbed her scar. She had tried to hide it once with some of Aunt 'Tunia's Facial Foundation. It had just flaked off within minutes. Aunt 'Tunia had not been pleased at Harriet's using her makeup, and punished her severely for it.

The wand-maker started to package the wand in its box when Harriet asked, "How am I supposed to carry the wand in school? Just shove it in my hair, behind my ear, like a pencil? Or is there a holster of some kind for it?"

Mr. Ollivander stopped and looked down at Harriet, smiling, pleased at her questions. "Yes, you will do great things, it shows, even now." He turned away from her and moved over to another display case. "The owner of the sister to your wand did great things as well. Terrible, but great nonetheless," he mumbled.

He reached into the display and pulled something out. "Your arm, please." Harriet held out her right arm. He started strapping a solid black leather-like contraption around her arm. "Dragon-skin, from a Norwegian Ridgeback, very tough, spelled to be invisible once you have it on, with a comfort charm so soft you'll forget you're wearing it. If someone grabs your arm, they won't even feel it. Neither it nor your wand can be summoned while you're wearing it." He finished fiddling with the straps, picked up Harriet's wand from the counter, and slid it into the holster. Even though the contraption easily fit the short five-inch distance between Harriet's wrist and elbow, the entire 13-inch length of her wand disappeared into the holster without complaint.

"Just flick your wrist, as if you're holding a wand, and it will pop right out."

It took Harriet several tries but finally her wand appeared in her hand. "Crikey, that's fabulous!"

The wand-maker showed her how to slide the wand back in place with a minimum of effort, "You'll learn how to do it one-handed quickly enough," he added, smiling creepily.

It came to thirteen galleons, total.

"Hagrid, where am I going to put all this stuff?" she asked as they left the store. Hagrid, as large as he was, was loaded down with packages. Harriet would never be able to carry it to Hogwarts.

"A trunk, almos' forgot 'bout that," Hagrid said. He headed off in a new direction. "It's a bit off the main alley, but good bargains," Hagrid explained. Shortly they arrived in front of a small shop with a faded sign, _Truckle's Trunks — Makers of Fine Trunks Since 1525_. A small bell dinged as they entered and, a moment later, a tall, thin man of uncertain age came out of the back.

"Ah, yes, Hogwarts, I presume? I'm Ben Truckle, at your service." He bowed politely.

At Harriet's uncertain nod he led them to a pile of grey trunks, each just over a four feet long (as long as Harriet was tall), half that in width, and only about a third as tall. Harriet could easily fit inside it without touching any of the sides. There were four thick bands of wood as bumpers, with handles on the sides and front.

"Here we go, unspelled trunks. They'll change color to match your House when you're sorted, or you can choose to go with one of variety of twenty-seven wood patterns or fifteen leather patterns, just 25 galleons."

An open trunk was at the front of the pile, the top tray sideways to reveal the inside.

"Nope," Harriet said, "won't do. Too small." Everything Hagrid was carrying would fit, even the robes when Harriet picked them up, but it would be tight. Plus, she intended to add a few more books to her library when she picked up her robes.

The two men looked at her in surprise. The storekeeper spoke up, "Oh, well, I can add an interior enlargement spell if you wish, for five galleons." He looked at her speculatively. "Or, I have fancier trunks over here, with fold out drawers and shelves." He pointed a bit further into the store. "I even have trunks with up to three rooms, if you really need space."

"Rooms," Harriet said speculatively, Oh, yes, those sounded about right. "Show me."

Smiling at successfully hooking what promised to be a big sale, Ben led them to the back of the store and showed them a stack of trunks. He opened one and one side fell down. He gestured her forward. When she looked there was a steep staircase leading inside starting where the open side was. "This one has a small closet that can also double as a storeroom, it's only 100 galleons and a bargain considering it has at least ten times a standard trunk's storage room."

She examined several trunks, one had a storage room, a bedroom, and a potions room.

"No," Harriet said slowly, after looking at the selection. She had an idea from a book she had seen in the school library. She had seen a picture of an old steamer trunk from a time before airplanes when rich people used to spend weeks traveling at sea and wanted a convenient method of reaching what they had packed away instead of rooting around in the bottom of a traditional horizontal trunk.

Harriet turned to Hagrid, who had been following, and saying such things as, "Th'at'd be nice," and "'re yeh sure about t'is, Harry?" at regular intervals. "Hagrid?" she said, "Would you turn this trunk on its side?"

"Like t'is, Harry?" he said as he lifted a closed trunk by a side handle and set the trunk on end.

"Perfect." She turned to the storekeeper who was watching. "I want something different. I want a trunk that opens like this," she swung the former top of the trunk open, like she was opening a door, and then set the interior tray aside as she didn't need it. "On this side," she pointed to the former bottom of the trunk, "I want six drawers, a big one about a foot deep at the bottom for sweaters and so forth, and four smaller ones all the same depth for other stuff, and a shallow one at the top for jewelry and such." She watched him nod in understanding. Now for the neat stuff, magical stuff.

"On this side," she pointed to the former top, "I want the top part to lift up until it's even with the back piece," she pantomimed lifting the former side flap up. "And when it's vertical I want it to extend up until it's six feet up," she paused. "Once it finishes, it becomes a door to the rooms I want. No awkward stairs or ladders, this way," she explained. "Put a dial here," she pointed to a spot on what would be the front panel on the inside of the cover, "that I can turn to select which room I want."

The storekeeper arched his eyebrows and muttered, "Ah, yes, I see."

She grinned, "I want a walk-in closet, a bedroom, a. . . ," she paused, ". . . _Oh_, and a bathroom with toilet and a _big_ tub, and. . . ," she drew out the 'and' for a moment. "_Oh_, and a kitchen! And, and. . . a Potion's Room! I think that should do. Can you do all that? Or do we need to go elsewhere?" Nothing like issuing a challenge and mildly insulting his abilities. Would he rise to the bait? Of course he would. . . .

"Naturally I can do that," Truckle declared loudly, "Easy as a sticking charm." He paused. "But it'll be expensive. 'Bout 500 galleons."

Harriet's grin grew wider. "I have a little business proposition for you. . . ."

An hour later, they were headed to the Leaky Cauldron for dinner.

"'owed you do tha' Harry?" Hagrid stared straight ahead.

"Do what?"

"Talk 'im into giving you tha' there fancy trunk fer free?"

"Haagriiid, you were there!"

"Yeah, but. . . ," the giant shook his head bemusedly. ". . . Harry Potter's Enchanted Travel Trunks? Do ye really think tha'll sell?"

"Hagrid, if even half of what you told me yesterday and today is true about the wizards here, he won't be able to make them fast enough. The kids who have a trunk will all want a new one! He'll get rich off this. And it won't hurt me, either, getting 10% off every sale! Besides, if he thought it wouldn't work, he would never have agreed. And you saw how fast he signed that contract."

Hagrid shook his head in disbelief, a _free_ fancy trunk!

Harriet was skipping alongside Hagrid, stopping occasionally to spin in place. She could not recall being this happy, ever. She was rich. She had an income, now, that could easily provide what little spending money she would need at school, just in case that vault stuff got bolloxed up. All her things, shrunken to fit, were in her new purse, slung across her chest, a deal-sealing gift from Ben. Anything she took out would restore to its proper size, then shrink when she it put it back. It wouldn't open for anyone but her and if she lost it, it would return to her when she called for it. It could even turn invisible if she turned the latch just so. She danced in the street. She could hardly wait to tell mum and dad.

As she was eating a sandwich, a delicious thing even if she had no idea what was in it, she suddenly had a thought. "Haagriid, how do I get back here to pick up my robes and trunk? Uncle Vernon won't do it, and I'm sure you're too busy."

"Simple, Harry, you're a wizard now. Just go outside yer 'ome and raise your wand hand in the air, and Stan and Ernie'll find you right quick. Take yeh anywhere on land, th'y says. The Knight Bus be right cheap, too." He gave her a quick glance from the corners of his eyes.

Thinking of the trip in the rowboat and the Underground led Harriet to ask, "Why didn't we take that from the island?"

Hagrid grimaced and got a sick look on his face, "Doesn't agree with me, Harry, worsen the Goblin cart, it is." Ooh, that made it sound as if it would be loads of fun! She could hardly wait to try it.

As Harriet chewed her last bite, and thought over her vault and business deal earlier in the day, she remembered she had seen a number of books with _her_ name on them, or rather _his_ name — _Harry Potter and the Banshee_, _Harry Potter and the Invisible Muggle_, and many others besides. A solicitor, she definitely needed a solicitor. First, to make sure her business arrangement with Truckle stayed on the straight and narrow, and second, to get after those thieves for stealing her name. . . _his_ name. . . to make money.

"Haagriid," she called, "I need a solicitor for my business dealings."

He stared at her, took another drink from his tankard, and stared some more. She stared back at him, trying to project an air of innocence. Finally, he said, "I'll ask the 'eadmaster. Maybe 'e knows someun good. I'll Owl yeh." He shook his head, amazed. Eleven years old and already in business!

Watching Hagrid waving as the train pulled out of the station to take Harriet back to the Dursleys left her feeling hollow. She decided that being called Harri maybe wasn't so bad after all.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

_**Author's Note:** My calculations on the vault contents are this: The movie shows a stack of coins almost as tall as Harry, and it is clearly as wide as he is tall, 48" (average 11 year old is 52", 48 is a slightly below average 9 year old —Harry is under-sized due to Dursleys, malnourishment). It also seems reasonable that the mound is roundish and not square-ish. _

_The average gold coin is 1.5" in diameter (~38-39mm) and .0944" thick (~2.4mm). Figuring the square inches of the pile, 3.14159 x (24" x 24") / 2.25sq inches ('cause round coins take a square's space) yields ~ 804 coins per layer. The pile is not squared vertically, but you can probably assume that the first two feet are solid with coins, thus multiply 804 x 24" tall / 0.0944 which becomes 204,406 coins. Figuring the top two feet as the top of a four-foot diameter globe (4/3 x 3.14159 x radius-cubed, then taking half that and dividing by the volume a coin—2.25" x 0.0944—again allowing for the fact that the coin is round but it takes up a rectangular volume on the floor) adds another 136,000 coins. So, not counting the smaller stacks of sickles and knuts mentioned, and allowing for approximation errors, 300,000 galleons makes a reasonable guess. It could be as high as 350,000G. If the pile were closer to square in footprint, then you would get 1,024 coins per layer (wouldn't be perfectly square, so 1,000 sounds more reasonable). That assumption would result, from the above calculations, in 400,000 plus coins._

_Regarding the family vault, it's stated the Potters were very wealthy. As the sole inheritor, Harry is not merely rich but very wealthy as well. Regarding the rationale that Harry's vault is a smaller one than the Family vault, consider that Hagrid asks for Harry's Vault, not the Potter's Vault, which should be of a size to match the Lestrange Vault._


	3. Wizarding Business

**Wizarding Business**

When Harriet told Uncle Vernon she would have to return to Diagon Alley the week after her first visit, he pitched a fit. He no longer struck her, as he used to do when she was much smaller, but his abusive rant lasted almost an hour and he locked her into her room for the next three days. Dudley, though, came through, and managed to sneak her some meager rations after lunch and dinner. He came around to her window after each meal and tossed the food up to her in a rolled-shut paper bag. They had worked out the system shortly after she moved from underneath the cupboard years ago. Sometimes he would sit outside her door and talk, but only when his parents were not home.

TFS's treatment might have gone on for longer if she hadn't let slip to Dudley, on purpose, that Hagrid had given her some money — a few of gold coins.

"Did you say gold coins?" he asked incredulous.

"Yeah. Those wizards are daft at best. They still use gold coins."

"Bloody hell, how much do you think they're worth?"

"Beats me, but I think they're worth a lot more than the wizards think they are."

"Kin I see one?"

She kneeled on the floor by the door. "Here, Dudley," she slid a coin under the door. Would he take the bait?

"Wow! Whatdaya think its worth?" Yes! She had him.

"I don't know. You think a jeweler might know? Isn't there one the near the school?"

"Yeah, you might be right."

"Take this to him and see what he says it's worth."

"'kay. Wow, this thing looks weird. Kinda heavy, too." She heard him heavily get to his feet. "Don't got anything else to do this afternoon," she heard him say as he went down the hall.

Two hours later, he pounded on her door, startling her into dropping her _Everything You Wanted to Know About Hogwarts_ book. "Harriet! Harriet! You won't believe it but he gave me twenty-five pounds for it, and wanted to know if I had more!"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah!" She could hear him panting. Had he actually run home?

"Harriet? Maybe if you gave a couple of these to dad he might be nicer to you before you go to school."

He started stuffing the pound notes under her door.

"You think he might?" No shit, Sherlock! That greedy fat slob would never pass up the chance to get more money.

"Yeah."

She took some of the notes, but pushed a bunch back under to him.

"Here, keep half, I never would have known if you hadn't helped."

"Cor!" he said softly.

"I've only got ten more coins and I'll need to keep one for when I go back to Diagon Alley."

And so, with Dudley's help, she struck a deal with Uncle Vernon. No punishments for the rest of the month. Meals provided, but she had to eat in her room. She tried to negotiate the trips to the hotel suite. He agreed to no trips for the next three weeks, but he refused to budge about the last week before she left for Hogwarts. He couldn't change plans he'd already set, he claimed. And having said she only had ten when she started talking with him, she couldn't suddenly "find" more gold to bribe him. She had trapped herself. Still, she gave Dudley several of the silver coins as a reward. She was sure he would discover what they were worth.

Very early the next Wednesday, August seventh, before the Dursleys even woke, she walked out the front door of 4 Privet Drive and held up her right hand. She had her wand — Mr. Ollivander was right, she had forgotten she was wearing it a couple of times, it was only when she flicked her hand and the wand appeared that she knew for sure she was wearing the holster — and her purse with everything in it. She stood there for about ten seconds, feeling like a fool. Something made her look down the street in time to see a bus turn the corner. It made her eyes hurt to look at it, like she wasn't supposed to look directly at it, and she just knew there was something behind her that needed her attention _right now_.

She resisted the impulse and stayed still. The bus, an eye-bleeding brilliant purple, stopped with the steps to board almost at her feet. And the bus was three decks high!

"Step lively, there, lass," said a man standing at the step entrance, "We don't want any Muggles to see us. The charm works for only a short time."

The bus started moving almost as soon as her other foot left the pavement.

"Where to lass?"

"The Leaky Cauldron?"

"That'll be seven sickles, please. Hear that Ernie?" he called out, "the Cauldron!"

"I heard, I heard," came the reply.

She handed him a galleon, and he gave her ten sickles change.

"I'm your conductor, Stan," he said, "and your driver is Ernie. Better find a seat right fast. It can be hard to keep your feet once Ernie gets moving."

She stared, holding onto one of the many metal braces. Instead of seats, like a normal bus, this one had beds! The bus jolted to the right, then back to the left, almost knocking her from her feet. Then it went up, buckling her knees, before dropping and leaving her in the air for a second. Maybe beds _were_ a better idea. She stumbled to the nearest one, which was, fortunately, unoccupied. She jumped on the bed and wrapped her arms around one of the support bars. A tinkling sound drew her attention and she saw that the bus had a chandelier! These wizards _were_ daft!

The ride was almost as much fun as the Gringotts cart ride, and, all too soon, they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. Stan warned her they were approaching, so she had time to get to the exit before the bus stopped. She jumped off and the bus was gone almost immediately. She _loved_ this Wizarding World, daft or not! She wondered if she could get Dudley on the bus for a trip, he liked roller coasters, he had said. And from his descriptions, this bus probably qualified as one!

She skipped into the pub and straight to Tom, the bartender, "Excuse me," she said brightly, "could you please show me the trick to Diagon Alley, one more time?" She smiled up at him sweetly.

"Certainly, lass, takes just a moment."

A minute later, she was making her way down Diagon Alley. She stopped at the Truckle's Trunks window, smiling. Prominently displayed at the top of the window was a sign, _Harry Potter's Enchanted Travel Trunks_. Below it on the left was an open upright trunk. Both sides were of the same depth, and a small sign was on top of the right side:_ Hogwarts' First Year's Model_. You could see drawers on the right side, a middle drawer open with a sock artfully draped over the side while the bottom drawer, also open, held a couple of folded robes. On top of the bottom drawer was a shelf with several books on it. The left side had the top panel open, with a metal 'T' fitted horizontally across that opening. Hanging from the center bar were several shirts and a couple of trousers, all on clothes hangers. When traveling, the top panel locked down and prevented the clothes hangers from coming off their support, and the crossbar of the 'T' prevented them from sliding off the end, as well as keeping the center bar from bending under the weight of the clothes. Below the hanging clothes was a shallow drawer, opened to reveal two pairs of shoes, with room left over.

Beside that trunk was another, this one closed so you could see a small square bronze plate, centered at the top, embossed with _Harry Potter's Enchanted Travel Trunks_ in fancy script. Below that was a bronze "1." Propped against the trunk in a wooden frame was Harry's picture.

Ben had had a wizard's camera, so she had tied her hair back in a knot and wetted down and combed her fringe into her hair over her forehead. It hadn't smoothed down very well and the fringe stood more straight up than laid back, giving her hair a wild, unkept, boyish appearance. She had added a slight smudge to her cheek. Her scar was distinct and very much on display. Ben had loaned her a white shirt, he said it was an old one from when his son had gone off to Hogwarts. It looked a bit large on her, but that played to her appearance as a small boy. No one looking at the photo would guess it was of a girl. The photograph Harry Potter was holding his wand up and looking from side to side and smiling at everyone.

It was perfect.

A woman and her boy were standing beside Harriet, looking at the trunk. "I want that one, mom," the boy declared. "Honey," she replied, "Don't you want to use your dad's trunk?"

"Mom, look, this one has drawers and hangers. You won't have to worry about my clothes getting wrinkled. And I won't keep losing things in the bottom of the trunk like dad says used to happen to him all the time. And he says you had the same problem."

"You just want it because it says Harry Potter."

"No, I don't. It's perfect for keeping my stuff straight. Pleeease!"

The woman sighed and let her son drag her into the store.

Chuckling, Harri left the storefront and skipped to Madam Maulkins.

Half an hour later, she was back with her school-required robes.

"Harriet!" Mr. Truckle exclaimed, "How are you! Your trunk is waiting for you. Come on back this way." He turned to a young man standing behind the counter, "Henry, I'll leave this to you for a while, I have important business with Miss Harriet, here. Call me if you have any problems." The man nodded, and finished ringing up the purchase by the woman and boy Harri had seen earlier.

As soon as they were in the back, Ben gleefully rubbed his hands together, "Business has never been better," he said in an excited whisper, "and it's all due to your new upright trunk! It takes a bit more work, but the premium your name adds easily covers that. I had the first model up the next day and sold it in an hour." He hurried over to a desk, tapped a big closed box with his wand, and took out a bag. "I was going to go to Gringotts today with this, 198 galleons, 9 sickles, and 21 knuts, a full month's earnings in only a week!"

Harri blinked, thinking hard, 2,000 divided by 35, round it to 40, was. . . "You sold over 50 trunks in a just a week?"

"Not quite, I sold eight of the First Year models, four Second Years, three Third Year, and one Fifth Year." Each model 'year' added a room and increased the price. The Fifth year cost 400 galleons. "And the best part is there's still three weeks to go!"

Harri grinned in turn, "And don't forget the students at school who will see the new trunks once school starts and demand their parents get them one."

Ben sighed happily. "I've already beat last year's sales, so everything from this point on is pure profit, even counting the clerk I had to hire. I've been so busy converting the trunks I needed someone to do the actual sales!"

"And my trunk?"

"Oh, yes. This way. Oh, and here," he handed Harri the bag of coins. Harri followed him to the other side of the workshop, putting the bag in her purse.

"As we agreed," he pointed to a trunk that had _Harriet Potter_ emblazoned on the top and above the side carrying-handle. Additionally there was a Harry Potter logo plate beside the latch. "It has a bedroom, a walk-in closet — that's the most popular room addition, by the way — a bathroom with a large tub and shower, a kitchen, and a potions room. The bedroom and kitchen are unfurnished, I didn't know what you wanted. You can set the wall colors to solids or any patterns you want. The instructions are in the manual."

He opened the trunk and pointed to a thin book on the bookshelf, "The manual." The bookshelf was covered with a mesh screen to keep the books from falling out while traveling, with a brass button at the top. On this trunk, and all the trunks with rooms, the right side was deep and the left, door-side was thin, but the overall size and shape matched the First Year's Trunks so they would all stack properly in transport. He turned and pointed to a dial on the left side, "The room selector." He rotated the dial, the name of each room appearing in a small window over the dial. "The rooms are all interconnected inside, so you don't have to leave the trunk to go from one to another — be a bit of a bother to have to leave the trunk just to go from the bedroom to the loo late at night." He glanced back at her, grinning.

"Next," he pointed to the outside latch, "this is set to open only to your touch or your wand held by your hand. Touch here." He pointed to a blank spot on the latch. Harri touched it and jerked her hand back at the slight sting. "It took a sample of your blood, and no one but you can open it now, unless you set up a password, too. The instructions are in the manual." The blank spot now had a small emblem of what looked like a medieval shield and lions on either side. "Also, because you'll be in a dorm, the room selector and doors only work for you, and the individual drawers can be locked and unlocked by touching the brass button on each so you won't have to open and close the entire trunk just to get your shoes. And you can set them to a password, instructions are in the manual."

"To prevent someone from trying to lock you in your own trunk, there's an emergency exit system. If the trunk is closed, when you open the exit door you look out whichever side of the trunk is not blocked by something. Opening and closing the door moves to the next side, widdershins, cycling through all four sides, top, and bottom. In an extreme emergency, you can force the trunk to come here, to my workroom, or to another preset location. Instructions are in the manual."

He stepped back from the trunk, "Would you like to take a brief tour?"

It was everything he had promised. The bedroom was as big as the Dursleys' sitting room, as was the bathroom, and the tub was big enough for Hagrid! The walk-in closet was only a bit smaller than her bedroom at the Dursleys. The kitchen was huge, and put the Dursleys' kitchen to shame, it was large and roomy, with two pantries, one for regular foods and another that kept food cold indefinitely without spoiling; it even had space for a large dining table, separated from the cooking area by a breakfast counter. The potions room was the same size as the kitchen, with two separate fires for cauldrons, well lit, with storage shelves lining one wall and bins another.

As the shopkeeper closed up the trunk, he said, "Oh, almost forgot. If you push this," he pointed to a brass piece shaped like a bird beside the latch, "you engage a feather-weight charm that makes the trunk weigh about five pounds. Push it back to the middle to turn it off. Push it further and a sticking charm activates to prevent the trunk from moving. Only you can push it, unless you decide to use a password lock on it instead, look in the manual for instructions. And finally, twist this," he pointed to a brass piece on the other side of the latch, this one shaped in concentric rings, "to shrink the trunk to this size and automatically engage the feather-weight charm for four ounces," he pulled a box about the size of a set of Muggle playing cards out of his pocket. The concentric-ring brass piece was in the middle of one side of the small box. "To restore it, twist it again. Doesn't matter which way you twist it, just put your finger on it and twist. Again, only you can do this unless you set a password."

Harriet was very happy as she left the store with her miniaturized trunk in her purse. She had taken a few moments to put her robes in the closet, her books on the bookshelf, and her school supplies in the appropriate areas.

She headed off to South Street, where Ben had told her she could find a furniture store or two. She wanted to outfit her bedroom and kitchen. And perhaps pick up more potion ingredients and books.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

It was almost 11:30 and Harriet was sitting at an outdoor café enjoying the sun and a cup of tea as she waited for her appointment to show up. True to his word, Hagrid had sent her an owl with the name of a solicitor recommended by the Headmaster. The response to her owl had been quick, perhaps the Headmaster had sent warning that Harriet would send an owl. While waiting, Harri had been people. . . wizard and witch. . . watching. She had quickly noticed what she had missed the first time she was in the Alley. They were almost all fit. A few might be ten to twenty pounds over their optimum weight, none were what she would call fat, much less obese, like many of the people she saw in the Muggle World. She wondered if magic had anything to do with it. Would their magic keep them fit unless they somehow overrode it? Perhaps a fat witch was fat on purpose, to avoid unwanted attentions of a certain sort. She could see that, easily.

She had almost finished her tea when she looked up and saw a tall woman with long, thick light brown hair, thin lips, heavily-lidded eyes with long eyelashes, and a strong jaw walking towards her. She was pretty, even beautiful, and her robe was professional in appearance. She carried a small briefcase. Almost all the other women Harri had seen today were shopping, and many were dragging kids around with them.

Harriet stood and extended her hand as the woman reached her table, "Hi, I'm Harriet, my friends call me Harri. Are you Mrs. Tonks?" In business, as she had heard many times, and knew from experience, taking the initiative is rarely a bad idea. Sometimes being forward got you exactly what you wanted from the other party, with a minimum of anxiety and fuss. You just had to time it right, too early and you scared them away or put them on their guard, too late and, well, too late was just too late. She might not have liked all her business experiences, but the alternatives had always been worse.

The woman smiled, slightly taken aback at the forwardness of the little girl in the plain robes. "Yes, I am. Nice to meet you, Harriet." She noted that the girl did not say her last name.

"Before we sit down," Harri said, "Should we go somewhere more private for our business discussions?"

"No, that won't be necessary," Mrs. Tonks replied appearing unsurprised at the question. The Headmaster's Owl must have warned her that Harriet might not know much magic. "I can just cast a _muffliato_ spell and no one will be able to hear us or read our lips." She pulled back a chair and sat.

"Oooh, that sounds neat!" Harri said dropping back into her chair. She waved her arm at the waitress, and ordered two teas. The server immediately brought over an additional cup and a new pot.

Mrs. Tonks waited until the waitress had left, then lifted her wand, gave the tip a whirl while saying _muffliato_, and the sounds around them ceased.

"Could you show me that?" asked Harri.

Smiling, the solicitor explained the wand movements and pronunciation. "You have to think about whom you want included, or the space you want covered while you're casting the spell," she finished. She canceled the _muffliato_ with _finite incantatem_ and let Harri cast the silencing spell. It took her several tries but she finally succeeded. "Excellent," Mrs. Tonks said, "_finite incantatem_, as you saw, cancels the spell. In fact, it cancels most spells."

Harri practiced that spell until she could create and cancel the _muffliato_ at will.

"Bravo! Now, how many spells does that make it that you know now?"

Harri smiled wryly, "Two." She had tried several spells at home, but there's a big difference between reading how to move a wand and actually seeing it. "Could you show me one more? Reparo?" It was for repairing things she had read in her book of charms, she had tried it but she must have been doing something wrong.

"It's pronounced _rePARoh_, dear, and you move your wand like this," Mrs. Tronks demonstrated, "Remember, magic is all about intent, so think about what you want it to do, picture it in your mind." She pointed her wand at Harri's glasses and said, "_Reparo_." There was a click. Harri took off her glasses and removed the tape. Her glasses were in perfect shape! She put them back on. The solicitor said, "Here, let me do another one so you can see it in action." She then picked up her saucer and smashed it on the table, startling Harri. "_Reparo_."

Harri watched, fascinated, as the shattered pieces seemed to fly back into place and a whole, unbroken saucer sat on the table. "Now, you try it," the solicitor said. It was scary, deliberately breaking the plate, but watching it fly back together was just so neat! That was going to be _really_ useful. She had broken a few things in her experiments at home. She was fairly bouncing in her chair. Dudley was going to be really and truly surprised when she got home and suddenly all his broken toys weren't!

"Well, dear," Mrs. Tonks said, after watching Harri practically vibrate with excitement for several minutes, lost in her thoughts of magic, "Why did you want to see me?" Mrs. Tonks was a businesswitch, after all. The headmaster had hinted that Harriet, here, was somehow important, ending his letter with the cryptic, "appearances can be deceptive" and "what you think might be true might not." The headmaster's letter and endorsement that she should hear the child out were really the only reasons she had agreed to this meeting, Harriet found out later.

Harri stilled herself, time for mum's Confidence. One moment she was bouncing in her chair, an expression of glee on her face, and the next she was quiet, a small smile, and a reserved atmosphere around her. It was time for business.

"Yes," she said evenly. She lifted her saucer to reveal a galleon coin, and slid it across the table with one finger to the solicitor. "I believe this is the traditional retainer for a first consultation, until we negotiate something more adequate for a regular business arrangement."

The woman stared at the galleon, then slowly reached over and took it. "Yes, that's correct." She had accepted payment for services, anything discussed from the moment they met was now confidential, including her client's identity. The headmaster would not be pleased when she refused to tell him anything about the meeting, and that client confidentiality applied. Most children did not know about that, though.

"Good." Harri's voice was business-like, clipped, no wasted words. "Here, this is a contract I negotiated last week. It was the best I could do on the fly. Please check it for errors." Harriet paused a moment as she slid a parchment across to the solicitor. "I'm sure there are many things it does not include that a contract should, but I believe it is adequate for honest businessmen." Years of listening as the Grunnings Drills' salesmen discussed their successes and failures had paid off.

Mrs. Tonks picked up the parchment and read it, her expression carefully neutral. Then she reread it, making comments. "You are agreeing to allow Truckle's Trunks to make and sell a line of upright trunks under the name of Harry Potter's Enchanted Travel Trunks for a 10% royalty. He will make payments monthly to your Gringotts account as long as they are above one galleon. He will keep accurate records, which he will make available to you on demand. He can use your name, picture, and/or likeness to promote, advertise, and market _only_ these trunks. He _cannot_ sublicense manufacturing to anyone else, except his direct employees. He will not make or sell any upright trunks that are similar to Harry Potter's Enchanted Travel Trunks, or could be construed as direct competition to Harry Potter's Enchanted Travel Trunks. He _cannot_ sublicense your name, picture, and/or likeness to anyone for any purpose, whatsoever. He will not reveal your identity to anyone. Both parties will attempt to maintain the good name and reputation of the brand at all times, and will abide both the intent and the letter of this contract. This contract will last until canceled by either party for breach of contract, for lack of sales, or by mutual agreement. If the contract is canceled, Truckle's Trunks must stop manufacturing of the trunks immediately, they can sell off premade stock, they are prohibited from competing with Harry Potter's Enchanted Travel Trunks for a period of three years, unless a mutual agreement otherwise is reached beforehand. Penalties for breach of contract may be assessed. It has both your signatures, and it looks like a blood spot below each."

"But, Harriet," she looked at the contract, "this contract can't possibly be right because you're a girl and I know Harry Potter is a boy."

Harriet grinned at her. "Well, it appears you're wrong." She reached up and pulled her fringe apart revealing the telltale lightning-shaped scar. "My parents were James and Lilly Potter, and they died when I was fifteen months old, that's when I got this. I was told Lord Voldemort killed them."

Mrs. Tonks winced, and stared at her skeptically. Obviously, if not for the Headmaster's letter she would already have left. She was probably thinking that maybe Harriet had carved that scar into her forehead. Or, and Harri saw her as she looked around them carefully to see if anyone was showing an undo amount of attention, an adult had done that to her and made her believe a lie.

"I can prove it," Harri stated, raising her wand. "I swear that I am the child of James and Lilly Potter, and the one that the wizards call Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, even though I am a girl." There was a swirl of magic around the girl and her wand glowed briefly. She was telling the absolute truth. If it had been a lie that she believed was the truth, nothing would have happened. Mr. Truckle had been skeptical as well and demanded a similar statement, after explaining what a wizard's oath was.

"Impossible," Mrs. Tonks said. "I saw Harry when they brought him over to hide at our house during the war. He is a boy."

Harriet shrugged, "Maybe whatever it was that that Voldemort guy did to give me this scar changed my gender." Harri noticed that Mrs. Tonks winched at the man's name. "I frankly don't know. I do know that as long as I can remember, I've been a girl. And my Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and cousin Dudley emphatically agree."

The solicitor looked at Harriet for almost a full minute, then looked at the parchment in her hand. She looked back up. "Very well done for someone who has never written a contract."

Harri accepted the change of subject. "He insisted on the blood, though, seemed right desperate to get it."

"Well, and you probably do not know this, but the blood makes this a wizard contract. If either of you break it, the other will know immediately."

"But how would the magic know if I did something in breach if nobody knew it was me doing it?" Harri tensed, what her Uncle made her do was definitely illegal, she knew, but she also knew she had no choice.

Mrs. Tonks looked at her a moment, startled at the very perceptive question. "Well, for example, let's say you went and bought fire whiskey, which is highly illegal for a child to have. As the purchaser, you would get a twinge, a feeling, that this would cause a problem with this contract. If an Auror then caught you, you would know that you had breached the 'maintain the good name and reputation of the brand' clause, and so would Mr. Truckle."

"What if . . . what if my uncle made me carry the fire whiskey, or what if he made me do something else that was illegal, and I had no choice?"

"Not your fault. The clause does nothing." The solicitor saw the faint signs of Harri relaxing. If she took on this child as a client, she would have to do some background research. Maybe she should do that _before_ she agreed to an arrangement.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking their tea, both lost in thought.

Finally, Harri reached into her purse and pulled out the bag Ben had given her. "For monitoring a contract like this, I believe the rate is 10%?" she said as she counted out twenty galleons and slid them to her solicitor.

The solicitor stared at her, astonished, her eyebrows had risen dramatically, her thoughts plain: The contract was only a week old and Harri was saying that 10% of her royalty sales were twenty galleons? Truckle had sold 2,000 galleons worth of Harry Potter trunks in just _one_ week?

Harri explained. "I stopped by the store this morning and he gave me this bag, saying he was about to make the deposit. He gave me 198 galleons and a bunch of sickles and knuts, but I just rounded it to twenty galleons, it's easier for me that way."

Mrs. Tonks nodded slowly. She, like Hagrid, knew just how popular Harry Potter was in the Wizarding World. She lifted her briefcase to the table, opened it, and took out a parchment. She thought a moment, tapped the parchment with her wand, and writing appeared. She read it, made a few changes, and then slid it across to Harri.

"This is our agreement. It's straightforward; any deposits made by Truckle's Trunks to your account will have my fee automatically deducted. In exchange I will oversee the account and make sure his payments are accurate and timely, and will be your go-between should he run into any issues or problems. The agreement lasts until either of us cancels it, for any reason whatsoever, with 30-day notice in writing. We both swear to be honest in all our dealings."

Mrs. Tonks was anxious to leave, Harri saw, she clearly some hard questions for her friend, Headmaster Dumbledore. Harri read the parchment, took her proffered quill, and signed the document. Then she pricked her finger with the solicitor's knife and let a drop of blood fall on the parchment. Mrs. Tonks repeated those actions, tapped the parchment with her wand, and a duplicate appeared. She handed it to Harri.

"Now," said Harri, "Here's something else that needs your attention." She dropped a copy of _Harry Potter and the Banshee_ on the table. "Make them pay for using my name to make money without paying me, and make it clear that if they want to continue it's going to cost them."

That discussion took half an hour. Harri understood she would probably have to go with Solicitor Tonks at least once to prove her claim to being Harry Potter. Fortunately, it appeared that the wizarding world had followed the muggle world in copyright and trademark laws.

Andromeda, Harriet knew that was her first name because she had seen it on the contracts, was sliding the finished copy of the book-contract agreement in her briefcase when Harri pulled out and put on the table another book, _101 Useful Charms for Writers_. Harri had noticed the book the last time she was in the bookstore. She bought the book this time, and had spent an hour reading it while the furniture people prepared and arranged things in her trunk. It was a positively delightful book for someone who had to write a lot, almost as useful as the Wang VS5000 word processor that the secretaries in the Grunnings Drills' office used.

Harri noticed that his solicitor seemed a bit put out. She smiled. "I noticed this book in the store and picked it up. It has a lot of useful stuff. But I also noticed that the quills being sold in the stores didn't have any really useful spells on them except to refill them with ink."

Mrs. Tonks nodded.

"Well, I have an idea for a line of Harry Potter Enchanted Quills."

"Of course you do," the solicitor muttered.

Harri ignored that and continued, "Imagine a student quill that only writes perfect letters and never splotches or spills ink. A quill that ensures your lines are always even and uniform. A quill you never have to sharpen and whose point never breaks or splits. A quill that lets you insert, delete, or change letters. A quill that lets you move words, sentences, and paragraphs from one spot to another, rearranging the words on the parchment around as needed." The secretaries at Grunnings Drills loved how much simpler those VS5000 features made their correspondence and reports instead of laboring with a typewriter and correction fluid. "A quill that always spelled words correctly. A quill that, if there were words that sounded the same, would show you your choices on the feather and you could select the correct one. Perhaps even a quill with a built-in thesaurus." Those features were not on the VS5000, but there were rumours they were on the way. Harri looked at the woman across from her, "Do you think students might be willing to pay more for such quills? Especially if it's an official Harry Potter Enchanted Quill?"

Mrs. Tonks stared at her, then cleared her throat, "Yes, they definitely would. And the teachers would bless you for it."

"Then I think we need to visit _Amanuensis_, don't you?"

"First, though," her solicitor said, "we need to visit Truckle's Trunks and inform him of your hiring me as your representative, and then into Gringotts and to inform them of these contracts."

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

"I own a London Penthouse?" Harri exclaimed, startled. Her solicitor had just paid for her entire year's salary, as far as Harri was concerned. Harri had mentioned that she had Griphook setting up an independent vault and Mrs. Tonks had immediately asked to see that Goblin upon entering the bank. After a brief conversation he, in turn, had taken them to see another Goblin, Slicehand, who had been most displeased to learn that Harri had given Griphook control of a new Potter vault. Grumbling, he had handed the solicitor a list of Potter House vaults and properties under his management, as well as a couple of other documents.

"Yes, Harriet, you do. As well as a Chateau in Switzerland, a second Chateau in France, a house and land in Scotland, several farms in various countries, an unoccupied building in Hogsmeade, and the land that had held the former main house for the House of Potter in Britain." She examined the next parchment.

"And this is all very confusing. On these documents you are still considered a male despite your female appearance."

"I am a female; it's not just an appearance."

"Yes, yes, I understand that, but according to these you are a male. That means, under British Peerage and Wizarding Law, you are a Lord."

Harri burst out laughing, "You mean people have to address me as 'Lord Potter' even though they can clearly _see_ I'm a girl?"

Distracted by what she was reading, Tonks replied, "Yes, quite."

Harri was quiet for a few moments, whatever the solicitor was reading it required her concentration.

Tonks looked up at the Goblin, "We need the ring, please."

The Goblin opened a drawer and withdrew a box. He walked around his desk and handed the box to Harri. Engraved on top of the wooden box was a shield with two five-point emblems, separated from a third emblem by a horizontal bar with 17 smaller designs in it. The smaller designs looked almost like a tall stylized-cross, wearing a dress. Supporting the shield on either side was a lion, standing on its rear feet, mouth open in a roar facing the other lion. Atop the shield was a helmet while below it was engraved "Potter." Opening the box revealed a gold ring with the same design, with a black stone for the shield with inlaid white designs while the bar was white with black designs.

Harri gingerly took out the ring and looked at the Goblin. He answered her unasked question, "Your third finger on your left hand."

She slid the ring in place. At first, it was much too large, but as she slid it on it got smaller until it fit her perfectly. For a moment, she thought the lions on the ring had turned to look at her.

She looked up at Mrs. Tonks to see her release a relieved sigh. She had been holding her breath?

Harri frowned. "What would have happened if I wasn't Harry Potter?" she asked suspiciously.

The Goblin answered, "You'd be dead."

Jesus! These people had been prepared to see her die! She stared at them, appalled. Then she smirked, "Told you I was Harry."

"Harriet," Solicitor Tonks said, "You have a Peerage, you are a Lord. That means you are an adult as far as wizard law is concerned. You are an emancipated child, that is, a child who has all the rights and responsibilities of an adult. Prior to today, if you had a Wizard Guardian, that guardian would have charge of your life, just as your Muggle Guardians have charge of your muggle life. While the muggle law still sees you as an underage child, wizarding law sees you as an adult and you can do anything an adult could do. Get married, get sent to Azkaban Prison, sign contracts, whatever.

"You don't see what that means right now, but I'll explain things as they come up. For example, that contract you signed with Truckle's Trunks wasn't really a contract until you retained me as your legal representative, minors cannot sign contracts. When I counter-signed that document at Truckle's Trunks it became a valid legal document. Putting on that ring changed that, you no longer require a Guardian's permission, nor an adult to co-sign for anything.

"I suggested we come here first to find your Wizard Guardian, but there don't appear to be any records of such here. I'll try to see what I can find at the Ministry, but this is highly unusual, and someone is going to get in a lot of trouble."

They talked for a while longer about her new status and her properties, and how to keep it all a secret.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Madam Quincy studied them carefully. Thankfully, the shop was currently empty. Her busy time was usually early morning to lunch, or late afternoon, the middle afternoon was pretty much lifeless. Business would pick up at about four, or so she had said.

At her solicitor's insistence, Harri had worn a hooded cloak that hid her face while they were on the street. Once in the store, she had tossed back the hood to reveal her exposed scar, wild hair, and black-frame glasses, fitting the picture in Truckle's Trunks store window. No one could tell she was a girl.

"Three types of enchanted quills for students, you say." Harri nodded. "Named after the years, First, Second, and Third." Harri nodded again. "Called The Harry Potter Enchanted Quills."

"That sums it up nicely, Madam Quincy," Harri said at her politest. "The first quill is just a basic always-full-of-ink, make it just a sickle more in cost than a standard quill with re-inking. The next one up add a spell for no splitting or breaking, with an increase in price to match. For the third one add spells for perfect letters and no spills or blotches. Each time we add a spell we increase the price. If we only put my name on them, we would make money, by adding these spells we make the quills uniquely mine. At least until your competition catches on, and by then we'll have the recognition for quality quills with an extremely well-known name. I suggest we start with just the three basic quills this year. Next year we add "Fourth Year" quill with even and uniform lines, and then each year release another one with more features to always stay ahead of the competition."

The shopkeeper looked over to Solicitor Tonks, "And you already have the same sort of deal with Truckle's Trunks."

"We just left there a short while ago to confirm some paperwork. Mr. Truckle has been quite pleased with the additional sales he's had. He specifically said he's already surpassed his sales for last year's entire season. With three weeks left in this season."

Harri looked around the little shop. "Do you have a shop in Hogsmeade?" Andromeda had told her about the small village and its local distance to Hogwarts.

The storekeeper shook her head, "Can't afford the additional rent and cost of a clerk there."

The solicitor looked at Harri, clearly wondering what she was up to.

The businesspeople Harri had overheard in the hotel suite, when they were sitting around shooting the breeze, had repeated often that location and timing were everything. And being walking distance to Hogwarts meant the students could easily get there and back, without having to wait until school breaks. This, in turn, meant more sales of her quills as students saw their friends using them and wanted one as soon as possible. Harri expected Christmas sales to be significant.

"What would you say to making me your silent partner in exchange for free rent in Hogsmeade while I'm going to school there?"

Both older women stared at the little girl. Harri looked up at Tonks, "Well, you did say that I had a vacant building there. Surely it has enough room for a shop like this." She turned back to the storekeeper. "I'll split the expenses of a new clerk with you for the first year, and provide the funding for stocking it. If we can't make enough the first year to make this work, we'll just fall back to selling my quills here, exclusively through you."

After another half hour of discussion, Harri and her solicitor left with a signed contract and a promise that the quills Harri had already purchased would be enchanted by the weekend. The shopkeeper would also provide two sets of all three Years as samples to show students. She hustled into the back of her shop with Harri's book as they were leaving.

Andromeda had disapparated, which she had explained before leaving, directly to her office, leaving Harri to walk back to the Leaky Cauldron. On the way, Harri had seriously considered not returning to the Dursley's, that London Penthouse sounded _awfully_ tempting. Somehow, though, she could not bring herself to do that. She had to return. No matter how unpleasant it was, she could not simply leave. She fought with herself all through her dinner, knowing the Dursleys were not going to give her all that large of a dinner, they still begrudged feeding her at all. But she couldn't do it. Besides, she had left her trunk, and mum and dad, at the house so she had to return, if only to get those.

It was with a heavy heart, and a dread for the next three weeks, that she summoned The Knight Bus.


	4. Train to Troubles

**Train to Troubles**

Harri was disgusted. Stupid wizards probably thought they were being clever, pulling one over on the Muggles by putting the entrance in a public place. TFS had left her staring at platforms nine and ten and the blank spot in-between. And she was nervous. Would this really work?

It had sounded simple when Mrs. Tonks, who had been kind enough to explain how the hidden platform worked, said all she had to do was walk into the wall. Poor Hagrid had been too flummoxed by the end of his day with her to properly explain anything. She was kinda surprised he had made it home without a problem. Then again, maybe he hadn't and she simply hadn't heard.

She was about to steer her cart towards the wall and blindly hope she wasn't about to make a fool of herself when she heard someone behind her say, "— packed with Muggles, of course —" She glanced over and saw a family with the reddest hair she had ever seen. There were four boys, all pushing carts with trunks — one even had an owl — and a woman, obviously their mother, holding the hand of a girl the same size as Harri. "Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped the small redheaded girl, "Mom, can't I go. . . ."

Was the woman an imbecile? Three of the boys were clearly older students. She had to have been here at least three times before and she couldn't remember a simple thing like a platform number?

Harri waited patiently for them to move out of her way. After much bickering, two of the boys who looked to be twins and were taking advantage of that to confuse their mother, finally started towards the wall. Harri watched intently, but then a crowd of people pushed by and suddenly they weren't there. And had admirably demonstrated what needed to be done, no crashing of carts into a solid wall. The rest of the family soon followed, a convenient crowd always blocking anyone's view of the wall. Harri waited a moment for them to move on the other side of the wall, then pushed her cart into the wall, half expecting a _bang!_ as she crashed into it instead of going through. But, to her relief, she hit nothing, not even a red-haired kid on the other side.

Just like The Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley, she felt like she had traveled back to Victorian England. The massive steam engine, a beautiful piece of work and art, was captivating in and of itself. On the front was a metal sign that read _Hogwart Express_, below that it said _#5972_. She could have spent hours admiring the antique steam engine and its cars.

But the people were just as amazing in their robes and dress coats. The red-headed family was now blocking the entrance to one of the cars, so Harri steered her cart a bit further down to where it was less crowded. There were cats running around, owls were flitting everywhere, people chatting, it was quite mad. And Harri reveled in it. The Dursleys would have hated it. Well, Dudley wouldn't have, it would have just scared him. For all his bluster, the boy was quite timid about new situations.

The train was rather full, kids were hanging out windows to talk to their families, or yell at friends as they went by. Harri could hear a few arguments about who was sitting where coming from some of the compartments. She passed a kid just as he was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad. . . ." "Oh, Neville," the old woman sighed. Further along a dark-skinned kid had just opened a large box and a long, hairy, insect leg poked out to the squeal of several girls.

Harri reached the next-to-last car and stopped there. Hedwig was in her bedroom, inside the trunk. She had considered shrinking the trunk, but didn't know if that would be safe for the owl. Hence the cart and all. She slid the brass bird up, activating the feather-weight charm. Then she grabbed the front handle and lifted the trunk. It really did only weigh five pounds, but it being bigger than she was, in all dimensions, it was still awkward. She ended up just picking it up and balancing it on her head as she went up the train steps. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed a few people staring at her as she did that.

They were probably wondering how such a small girl as her could lift what had to be a fifty-pound trunk without using magic! She giggled. Once word got out that all Harry Potter Trunks had a feather-weight charm built-in, her method of carrying the trunk would be all the rage. Or, now that she thought about that red-haired family's daughter, maybe they thought she was too young to be a student.

The first compartment, amazingly, was empty. Harri tossed her trunk on the rack overhead, facing forward by the window. Her name was upside down.

She was wearing her purse over her mid-thigh white summer dress, so she had easy access to her books and money. She flicked her wrist. Yep, her wand was where it was supposed to be. She put it back. She didn't have the hang of doing it one-handed, but was making progress. She was sure that by the end of the year it would be second nature to her.

She opened the window and leaned out to watch whatever was happening. The redheaded family had moved all the way back to her car, for some reason, and they were all still bickering. Harri felt herself tearing up. One of them, Ron his mother called him, had something on his nose that she tried to wipe off, embarrassing him immensely. What would it be like to have a family like that? None of the hurtful language she had grown up with, nobody had called the little girl _whore, slut,_ or _bitch_ once, not even in jest. She half-closed her eyes and pretended, briefly, that she was in that family and they were bickering good-naturedly with her.

A whistle sounded. The family suddenly got serious and trunks and boys fairly flew up the steps. The train started to move and the little girl chased it waving, laughing, crying, saying goodbye to all her brothers. Harri would have given everything she had, the vaults, the houses, the gold coins, all of it to be that little girl instead of who she was. Tears were streaming from her eyes at this point. In only a few moments houses were flying by the train.

The door to the compartment slid open. "Anyone sitting there? Everywhere else is full," she heard from behind her. She surreptitiously wiped her eyes, closed the window, and turned around. It was one of the redheaded kids, Ron his mother had called him. He still had a black mark on his nose. Saying the other compartments were full was probably a lie; the ones further in the car were probably just as empty as this one, or just filling up. In addition, there still was the last car. He was probably just being lazy. "Sure," she said, "make yourself at home." Maybe she could get him to talk about his family.

He was struggling to lift his trunk up to the rack when his twin brothers made an appearance. "Aw, would ickle Ronniekins. . ." started one.

". . .like some help?" finished the other.

Ron turned and glared at his two brothers. If looks could kill. . . but they can't. God knows, Harri had tried often enough.

The two boys laughed and stepped into the compartment, pushing Ron further into the compartment where he sat down by the window, choosing the opposite bench from her. With a quick series of heave-hoes they put his trunk, and theirs, up on the racks. The twins turned to look at her.

"Well, hello beautiful," said the closest twin.

"I think we saw you. . ." said the other.

". . . outside Platform. . ."

". . . 9 and 3/4."

"I'm Fred Weasley," said the closest twin.

"I'm George Weasley,"

"And this is Ron Weasley," they chorused, pointing at their sulking brother.

She giggled, they were funny. Maybe they could be friends. "Hi, I'm Harriet, Harriet Potter. My friends call me Harri." She waved, somewhat shyly.

"Harry Potter?" The twins looked at each other. "Nah, couldn't be," said Fred.

"The picture in _The Daily Prophet_ was a guy," agreed George.

"He was wearing glasses."

"And the scar, don't forget the scar."

"But a fabulous prank. . ."

". . . if it were true."

They grinned evilly at each other, then turned to her, "Nice to meet you, Harri Potter," they said in unison, bowing.

Harri smiled. On her third trip to Diagon Alley, to pick up her quills and wander through the bookstore, and do a bit of exploring, she had found an Oculist's shop. After determining that he could only do a little bit to improve her vision at her current age, leaving her stuck with glasses, he had fixed them so they gave perfect vision and automatically adjusted to her changing eyesight as she grew. Then he had charmed them so she could see in the dark. He had also made them unbreakable, although he had explained there were certain spells and situations the glasses could not survive intact. At her request, he had charmed them so they were invisible while she was wearing them, unless she wanted them visible. Finally, he had charmed them so they couldn't fall off her face by accident and gave them a comfort charm so she could wear them in her sleep without discomfort. It had cost almost twenty galleons.

And her hair hide the scar quite nicely, thank you very much.

"Cor!" Ron exclaimed; he had been ignoring his brothers as he apparently usually did at home. He had watched his brothers put up the trunks and had been looking at hers. "Is _that_ a Harry Potter Trunk?"

Harri grinned; word must be getting around, "Yep."

"I read all about them in _The Daily Prophet_, they've got smashing enchantments," Ron said.

_The Daily Prophet_, again. She wondered if that was a newspaper the wizards read, if so, Ben must have put an ad in it. Whatever it was, it clearly worked! Should she subscribe? She giggled at the thought, a picture of her with a paper in front of her face at the breakfast table, like TFS, grumpily complaining about how the food hadn't been prepared to her satisfaction and the world was going to hell in a hand-basket.

"Which Year. . ." said Fred.

". . . is it?" finished George. Both were examining the markings.

"Sixth Year."

"Sixth Year?" chorused the twins.

"That's a. . . ," exclaimed George.

". . . small house!" finished Fred.

Ron stared at her, wide-eyed. "Blimey! Are you rich?"

"May we. . ." started Fred.

". . . take a look?" finished his twin.

She shrugged, "Sure, why not." She stepped back up on the bench and grabbed the handle.

"We'll get that," chorused the twins, stepping closer.

"No need," she responded, stretching up to easily lift and swing the trunk around, "All Harry Potter Enchanted Trunks have a feather-weight charm."

She jumped down from the seat and set the trunk upright on the floor beside her. She noticed that Ron, sitting opposite her as she stretched up to grab the trunk, was blushing beet-red some reason.

His brothers, though, obviously knew because they burst out laughing after looking back and forth between her and Ron.

"Look, George, little Ronnikins is already getting an education," said Fred.

"They grow up so fast once they leave the home," retorted George, wiping an imaginary tear form his right eye.

"Belt off you two," yelled Ron, turning even redder, if that were possible, and standing up to face them.

The twins ignored him, and continued to bait and torment their brother as Harri leaned on her trunk. Real siblings, she sighed to herself. She would never dream of such banter between her and Dudley. He would have started swinging his fists at the first slight, or better, thrown something heavy.

"I thought," she interrupted them lightly, "you wanted to see the trunk?"

"Oh, yes, if you please," said Fred.

"We would be forever in your debt if you allowed us a peek." George added.

They were being exceedingly polite to her. Ron flung himself back on his seat, face blotchy-red as if he were about to cry.

She pushed the latch and opened the trunk, the thinner left panel automatically turning itself into a door. The twins leaned closer, "Blimey," they breathed in unison. She slipped into salesman mode. She had practiced this at home several times to come up with the best spiel that sounded natural while subtly pushing the product.

"It has four drawers, a small one at the top for jewelry, quills, stuff like that, and a deep one at the bottom for robes and cloaks. On top of the bottom drawer is my bookshelf. I keep my schoolbooks in my purse with me and put my reference books here.

"The really neat feature, though, is this," and she pointed to the dial at the side of the door. "I just turn it to. . . bedroom," which she did, "And when I open the door," she turned the door lever, opening the door inward so it didn't take up any extra space in the compartment, "there's my bedroom!" Its walls were a pleasant light yellow. A very large white four-poster canopy bed with light pink curtains and top was against the far wall. End tables were on either side and a dresser was against the left wall beside a full-length, very wide mirror. A cream-coloured carpet covered the floor. The three boys took a quick look. "Blast! That's bigger than our sitting-room," whispered Ron.

She closed the door and turned the dial, "And this is my Potion's Room," she said, opening the door again.

"Crikey, Snape would go potty to see a student with one of these!" Fred said in awe.

"You said it, Fred, Look at this place!"

They wandered in admiring the potions table and equipment stored around the room. Ron's eyes were like saucers they were so wide in surprise. "It has two cauldron pot cookers!" she heard one of the twins exclaim.

Harri let them look around for a minute, "The best part is that every room can be reached from inside, look." She pointed back at door. The wall had three doors across it; above each was legend: Kitchen, Bathroom, and Exit. "The closet is off the bedroom and the kitchen and bathroom are available from the bedroom and this room."

"Fred," George said softly.

"We have to get one of these," continued Fred.

"Imagine, a safe and convenient place to design our pranks," finished George. They stared at each other, obviously plotting something. They nodded in unison, whispering, "Snogging!"

"Mom is going to have kittens if you two get in anymore trouble," said Ron, shuddering. "And where would you get the galleons for something like this, it costs a fortune you don't have. We could barely afford to kit my stuff!"

"Who would have thought that Ronniekins," started Fred.

"Would be the one . . . ,"

". . . to try crush our dreams," finished Fred.

They looked at each other, "Nah!" And laughed.

Harri ushered them all back into the train.

After thanking her profusely, the twins turned to Ron, "Listen, we're going down to the middle of the train — Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron as he slumped back onto his seat.

The twins slid the door shut behind them.

Harri latched the trunk closed and placed it back on the overhead rack.

When she turned around and sat, she noticed Ron had a bright-red face again.

"Are you okay, Ron?"

"I'm fine, smashing, even," he replied hurriedly, turning redder, and looked out the window to the scenery.

"Is everyone in your family wizards?" asked Harri.

"Er — yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him." Did she need an accountant? She would have to ask Mrs. Tonks.

"You must know loads of magic already," said Harri, envisioning the gap between her seven spells and the dozens and dozens he must know.

"Not really. Mom insisted we learn our magic at Hogwarts, she said it wasn't good to use magic before your magical core was ready. You could strain and damage it," said Ron. "Fred and George told me a lot of stuff, but I'm sure all of its dodgy at best. They're always pulling pranks, you never know what's what with them. How about you?"

Harri sighed. "I grew up knowing nothing about magic. My aunt and uncle, knew, though. They're horrible, they kept it all from me. Lies, lies, and more lies. They never told me my mum and dad were wizards. They died when I was a baby. I've got a cousin, he's not too bad, but he used to beat me up a lot when I was smaller. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

"Blimey, that's bollocks." He stared at her a moment. "I've got five brothers." For some reason, this made him gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left — Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch."

His mother must have a severe memory problem. She had made the trip to King's Cross twice a year, minimum, for at least seven years, and she _still_ couldn't remember the platform number?

Ron continued, "Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat that he's had for years."

"I never got anything new, either, until I got my Hogwarts letter," Harri said as Ron pulled a fat sleeping gray rat out of his jacket pocket.

"This is Scabbers, he's useless and he sleeps all the time. Percy got an Owl, but we couldn't afford. . . ." Ron stopped talking and he blushed again. He dropped the rat back into his pocket. He looked out the window for a while, then turned back to Harriet. "If you never got anything new, where'd you get the trunk?"

So, Harri told him about Hagrid coming to get her. She decided not to mention her vault and just said that Hagrid had paid for everything for her, which _was_ true, he had just used _her_ money. She implied that the trunk and Hedwig were gifts from Hagrid. She didn't tell him about the confusion over her gender and being the famous Harry Potter. She, likewise, didn't mention her Lord's Ring and what that entailed. She ended by saying that he gave her a small bag of Galleons when they left Diagon Alley, not mentioning that he had only been carrying her Gringotts bag for her.

Then she talked about her school, and what it was like to be ignored by everyone there because Dudley had to get the limelight, and how she had been punished anytime she did better than he did. She ended with, "I bet I'll be the worst in class, I know nothing about magic, just three spells taught to me by my. . . a nice lady I met at lunch when I was in Diagon Alley, plus a few others I read about but have never had a chance to use." Ron didn't seem to notice her pause.

"Rubbish." Ron said scornfully, "Loads of people come from muggle families and they learn quick enough."

While all this had been going on, the train had moved into the countryside. They watched the trees, houses, and villages flicker by. Harri sighed as her stomach growled loudly. Soon, though, there came a clatter from the passageway and their door slid open to reveal a woman, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harri jumped to her feet, Uncle Vernon hadn't given her anything to eat for breakfast and Dudley had forgotten to bring her anything, making her ravenous. With gold and silver in her purse, she was ready to buy as many candy bars and stuff as she could stomach, and then some.

However, she recognized nothing on the cart; they all had strange names, like _Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Licorice Wands_, and more. Shrugging, she bought a bunch of everything including some drinks. The total came to thirteen sickles, five knuts.

Ron stared enviously as Harriet dumped her stash on the seat, "You must be hungry."

"Starving," Harri said around a mouthful of pastry she had torn open before even sitting, "no breakfast. Almost no dinner."

Ron had an unwrapped package with four large lumpy sandwiches inside on his lap. He glumly pulled one apart, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

Harri tossed him an unopened pastry, "Trade ya," and snatched a sandwich.

"You don' want one of these, they're all dry," Ron objected.

"'oo la'e," Harri said around a mouthful of sandwich. Ron shrugged and tore open the pastry. Dry the sandwich might have been, but his _mother_ had made it _for him_. How could he _not_ want it, she wondered. Plus, she had purchased two bottles of something call Pumpkin Juice and two others of lemonade. Those would take care of any dryness.

They shared a companionable silence broken only by sounds of munching. Harri held up a package, "These don't really have frogs in them, do they?" She wouldn't be surprised if they did, she had heard they ate frog's legs in France, so. . . .

"Naw, they're chocolate, but let me know what card is in it, will ya?"

"What?"

Ron explained about the collectable cards in the packages, and his interest in them. Harri's card was Dumbledore. She stared at the card. A kindly old man wearing half-moon glasses stared back. According to Hagrid this was the man who had abandoned Harri to the Dursleys. The Headmaster had silver hair and a beard so long that it could be tucked into his belt. He had a very long and crooked nose that looked as if it had been broken at least twice. His eyes were a brilliant, soul-piercing shade of blue, and twinkled with kindness and mischief.

Harri had mixed feelings about him. He looked trustworthy, but she had met several "kindly old men" in the hotel suite over the years, so she knew what a façade that could be. She decided she would reserve judgment until she met him and had a chance to see and hear what he was really like.

No longer starving, the two worked their way through the sweets, Ron pointing out his favorites, as the landscape outside their window slowly changed to more farms and fewer houses.

There was a knock on their compartment door and a boy, face splotchy-red and almost in tears, came in. Harri remembered seeing him back at the station.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"Why don't you just summon 'im with _Accio_?" Harri asked. "And then use a sticking Charm to make 'im stay put?"

They both looked at her, startled.

"Akcheeoh?" Ron asked, finally.

Harri frowned. Had neither of them even looked at any spell books before? "Sure, like this," She popped out her wand, causing both boys to blink at her wand's sudden appearance in her hand, and started to wave it. "Wait," she said and put down her hand, "what's his name and what does he look like?"

"A frog?" hazarded Ron.

She frowned at him, and turned to the other boy "Is he small, big, huge? Is he light green, dark green, puke green, bile green, or pink? Does he have any special markings or a name?" Were these kids really from magic-using families?

"Trevor, his name is Trevor," the new boy said hesitantly, "Dark green, about this big 'round," he made a medium-sized circle with his fingers, "and he has a white belly."

Harri nodded, pictured a dark-green white-bellied, medium sized toad in her mind, lifted her wand, and waved it in the pattern the book told while saying "AK-see-oh Trevor the Toad!"

The two boys stared at her.

"Sit down, leave the door open," she ordered the boy, "If he's on the train he'll get here in a moment."

The boy sat immediately beside the door, still looking at her.

"I'm Harriet Potter, my friends call me Harri. He's," she pointed at Ron who had gone back to eating candy, "Ron Weasley. He has five brothers and a sister."

The boy blinked at this information, "Um, I'm Neville Longbottom."

There was a noise from the floor outside their compartment and a moment later a dark-green toad slid backwards over to Harri. "Trevor!" exclaimed the slightly pudgy boy.

Harriet picked Trevor up and looked at him. "You shouldn't run off like that," she scolded the toad, tapping him on his nose with her finger, "You're scaring Neville and making him look like a klutz to his fellow wizards. That's not nice, you're supposed to support him." She handed the toad to Neville, who took him gratefully.

Ron stared at her, frowning, "He really doesn't understand you, you know."

Harri looked over at him. "Nonsense, animals understand a lot more than you think. The snakes and frogs at home, when I find one while gardening, always listen to me when I warn them to stay away from Dudley. Not to mention what Aunt 'Tunia would do to one if she found one in her precious yard."

Ron stared at her wide-eyed. "You're barmy," he said, before attacking opening and devouring another of her sweets. Conversations with snakes and toads might have been a bit dull — their interest primarily being in the weather and finding food — but at least they weren't insulting! On the other hand, he hadn't thrown anything, called her vile names, or hit her.

Neville was still fussing over Trevor when Harri realized a bushy-haired girl with large front teeth was standing in the door to their compartment. "Did you do that?" she demanded rather bossily. "Was it _Accio_? I saw that spell in my book _101 of the Most Useful Simple Spells_ but I haven't tried it yet. Was it hard to learn? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard — I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough — I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

Harri blinked, bemused. Was the girl on a sugar high? Harri hadn't even seen her take a breath. And, she had memorized the course books, _of course_? And if anyone should be on a sugar high, it should be Ron as he must have eaten at least a pound of it in all the sweets Harri had bought. He hadn't even touched his sandwiches. Harri had eaten one, which was all she could eat, and then only nibbled at the candies.

"I'm Ron Weasley," he muttered around a mouthful of something.

"I-I'm Neville Longbottom," Neville said looking up from putting his toad back in his pocket.

"I'm Harriet Potter, Harri to my friends," she said.

Hermione looked at Harri for a moment, blinking, "Are you related to the Harry Potter mentioned in _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century,_ _Modern Magical History_, and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_? I read them all and they were quite interesting but they contradicted each other about exactly what happened, and where Harry Potter went afterwards. I think they were just guessing because the only one who knows is Harry Potter and he was probably too little at the time to remember what happened. And no one has seen or talked with him since then so even if he could remember and talk about it how would they have managed to get to him to ask? What do you think?"

Harri blinked, all those wizarding history books mentioned her? "Uh, I'm not his sister or cousin, or anything like that," she almost mentioned her parents, but stopped herself in time.

"Oh, do you know what House you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor — brave at heart, don't you know — it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it." She chewed her lip for a moment, thinking. "I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad — wit and learning, I love to read. I don't think I'd like Slytherin — I'm not all that cunning or ambitious to be a leader."

"Sneaky, underhanded, vicious bullies you mean," Harri heard Ron mutter.

"Hufflepuff," the loquacious girl continued, "Loyal and hard-working is good, but I dare say I wouldn't want to be known by those only," She stopped and looked at them, obviously expecting a reply.

Harri opened her mouth, but Neville beat her to it.

"I-I expect I'll end up in Hufflepuff. Both m-my parents were in Gryffindor, but I-I'm not very brave." He fell silent and seemed lost in thought for a moment.

Ron filled the silence as he proudly proclaimed, "Oh, I'm going into Gryffindor, both my parents and all my brothers are in Gryffindor." He looked at them a moment, then his smile faded a bit, and in a lower voice he said, "Well, at least I hope I do, I can't imagine what mum would say if I didn't!" He shuddered.

That left Harri. "My parents were in Gryffindor as well, but I have no idea where I'll end up. Maybe we can all get together in Gryffindor, I think I'd like that."

Hermione jumped up, "I think I'll ask the conductor when we'll arrive at Hogwarts, it seems like we've been on this train for a long time and it's already three o'clock. By the way," here she looked at Ron, "You've got some dirt on your nose."

No sooner was she out the door when Ron mumbled, "Blimey! What a know-it-all waffler."

"Want a chocolate frog, Neville?" Harri asked.

A few minutes later, Ron asked, "What's your Quidditch team, Harri?"

"Quidditch? What's that?"

Appalled at her ignorance of his favorite passion, Ron launched into a detailed description of the game. Harri had never been one to play sports — always being the last one chosen, or even ignored, in school had killed that interest, but this Quidditch, flying broomsticks and dodging balls, sounded fascinating. Neville even jumped in and a heated discussion erupted as to which team was going to win this season, the Appleby Arrows or the Chudley Cannons.

They had just concluded that they would have to wait for the end of the season when the compartment door slid open and three boys entered. Two boys stood on either side of the bleach-bottle blonde Harri had seen in Diagon Alley last month. They tried to look mean and tough, but only managed to look constipated. "Is it true?" the middle one demanded. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment."

Harri looked up at him from her seat. Ron and Neville looked at her. "Well," she said, "I'm Harriet Potter and my friends call me Harri."

"What a cock-up," the boy said, disgusted, "I told you it was just a prank from those Weasley prats." He was already losing points with Harri with that attitude. "Any way, I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. And this," he pointed to his left, "is Crabbe," he pointed to his right, "and this is Goyle." Harri noticed he didn't bother with their last names.

At the mention of Draco, Harri heard a muffled snort from Ron. Apparently, so did Draco. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

"Hey," protested Ron, starting to his feet.

Harri's mind was made up at this point — Malfoy was a chief bully, with smaller bullies following him. Normally, she could see a fight brewing from a mile away and escape, but this one was mere feet away. She was worried, she knew nothing about wizard fights and a silly thing called Jelly Legs was the only jinx she could remember on the spot. She had no idea if it would work. After all, she couldn't ask Dudley to let her try it on him. Even if he had agreed, TFS would have had a coronary, and then beaten her half to death for doing it, bargain or not. And imagine the mess she would have been in if she hadn't been able to reverse it!

"Clear off," Ron ordered.

"Oh, and you're going to make us?" Malfoy sneered.

"Unless you leave now," said Harri as she, too, stood. Harri was surprised at how steady her voice was, the three boys at the door were much bigger than the three in the compartment, and Harri wasn't sure if Neville would do anything. Her wand slipped into her hand, almost unnoticed by her.

"What if we don't want to leave? You seem to have some treats left. Perhaps if you give them to us we'll take our leave."

Taking the hint from Draco, Crabbe reached for the Chocolate Frogs on the seat, and Ron started forward. Suddenly Crabbe let out a pained yell.

Ron's rat Scabbers had sunk his sharp little teeth sunk deep into Crabbe's finger! Screaming he swung his arm around trying to dislodge the rat, almost hitting his friends with his hand or the swinging rat. Goyle and Draco backpedaled out the door as Harri, Neville, and Ron stepped back towards the compartment window, watching in amazement. Finally, the rat flew off and smacked hard into the closed window. Harri thought it was lucky she had lowered the window earlier in their trip, otherwise they would be missing one rat.

With a frightened look at the candy pile, Crabbe quickly followed his friends out the door. _What_? Harri thought, _Did he think there was another rat hiding in there?_ Neville shoved the door closed behind him, only for it to fly open a moment later. It was Hermione, "What happened in here? I could hear someone yelling from the next car," she demanded, looking at the scattered candy and Ron picking up his rat. "Have you been fighting? Fighting's not allowed on the train. You'll get in trouble. And they might even expel you!" This last appeared to terrify her.

"I think he killed my rat," declared Ron. Then, a moment later, he said, "No, I think the little bugger's gone back to sleep! Stupid Malfoy. Cor! I've never seen Scabbers do anything like that, wait'll mum and day hear about how he defended me." He turned to face Hermione, "And we _weren't_ fighting, Scabbers was!"

"You've heard of the Malfoys?" Harri asked.

"Who hasn't?" Ron said, "Oh, right, neither of you have," he glanced over at Harri and Hermione. "Well, ya see, You-Know-Who, he had lots of followers, they were called Death Eaters." Harri remembered reading about that, so she nodded in encouragingly. "Well, one of the biggest of the lot was Malfoy, he was one of the first to join up, but after You-Know-Who disappeared, he claimed it was all a mistake, that he had been bespelled to join and had no choice. My dad says that's a load of rubbish, that he didn't need to be bespelled to help You-Know-Who. Malfoy was a Slytherin just like You-Know-Who, and they're thick as thieves."

Something was bothering Harri. The encounter with Draco and his squad, and Ron's comments about being bespelled, had triggered a suspicion. Ever since she had read about some wizards being able to transform into animals, the thought of a wizard sneaking into her room as an apparently harmless animal had terrified her. "Ron," she said softly, "How long have you had that rat?"

"Percy got him years ago," Ron shrugged his shoulders, clearly uninterested as he slipped the sleeping rat back into his jacket. "I've seen 'im ever since I can remember. Wonder when he got out of my pocket?"

"Would you put him on the seat for a moment? I want to try a spell. It won't hurt him; I've practiced this spell like a hundred times."

Eyeing her curiously, he pulled the rat back out of his pocket and gingerly laid him down. "Sure, if you want."

"Oh, you're going to do a spell?" Hermione sat beside Neville and stared intently. "What's it called? What's it do?" she asked.

Harri ignored her, concentrating on what she wanted to do. "Move back, Ron."

"Hey, are you sure this spell is safe?"

"If your rat is a rat, yes. If not, then I'm not sure."

"Scabbers not a rat?" Ron stared at the rat, astonished at the thought.

Harri released her wand again, took a deep breath, pictured what she wanted to happen, and cried, "_Manifesto_," while flicking her wand-tip in a quick narrowing spiral at the rat.

To her intense surprise, and everyone else's, the rat started to grow and change before their eyes. A man appeared on the bench seat opposite them.

"Cor!" whispered Ron.

"Oh my god," came from Hermione

Neville just gasped.

"Who is he?" whispered Hermione.

Harri was shaking, her wand wavering around as she pointed it at him. She had to try three times before she could get the words out correctly for the Jelly Legs curse. Her intent was strong, she did _not_ want him getting up and attacking them, but she wasn't sure if the wand movements were correct. Nothing appeared to happen, but then again the man hadn't moved yet. Either he was a very heavy sleeper or Ron had been wrong and Crabbe had knocked out the rat when he hit the window-glass.

"N-Neville?" Harri stuttered, "W-would you get an adult?"

"My brother Percy's a Prefect," Ron whispered, still in shock, "The prefects are in the front car. Get him."

Neville took off at a run.

"I feel like I've seen him before," Hermione added.

Nobody said a word as they waited. Harri kept her wand pointed at the man, although what she would do if he woke up she didn't know. None of her other spells would be of use in this situation, she had already used her one offensive spell, Jelly Legs. An hour later, or at least to them it felt like an hour, Percy bustled into their compartment with Neville trailing, demanding to know what kind of prank this was. Two other prefects followed. Percy stopped dead and stared at the man on the seat. He turned to Ron, "What happened?"

Ron had just finished explaining about how Draco had come in, what Scabbers did, and how Harri had been suspicious of the rat, when Hermione suddenly exclaimed, "I've got it, where's my _History of Hogwarts_ book?" she started rummaging in her bag, triumphantly yelling "HA!" as she pulled it out. "What?" she said, realizing they were all looking at her, "I wanted some light reading in case I got bored."

"Light reading?" Ron echoed, looking at the thick tome and giving her an incredulous look. "You're mental, you are."

They watched as she frantically flipped through the pages. "Aha! Here it is," she held up the book so they all could see as she pointed to a picture. "In the section on famous Hogwarts' heroes, Peter Pettigrew, here's his picture. He's supposed to be dead."

And there he was. The picture was of a younger man. There was no doubt that the man on the bench seat, although he looked a bit ratish, was indeed the man in the picture. Percy studied the picture, then the man on the seat. He pulled out his wand, "_Incarcerous_" he intoned, giving his wand a quick swish. Ropes appeared around the man.

"Robert, tell the driver to warn the Headmaster that we've captured Peter Pettigrew, alive!"

Word spread like wildfire and there was a constant parade of students visiting their compartment. Percy stood importantly by the window while students took pictures of him and Peter, whom he arranged leaning up on the wall beside the window. Wizards used cameras, Harri saw, and like the world she grew up in, cameras were common. The girl Prefect stayed outside the compartment telling the students to move on and stop blocking the passageway. Robert returned after a while with another prefect, chased the milling students out of the car, and closed the door to the compartment.

Harris cast the revealing spell on Trevor the Toad, with Neville's trembling permission. To everyone's immense relief, nothing happened except Trevor giving an offended, and loud, "Revit!" Harri apologized to the toad distractedly, to both Ron' and Neville's amazement.

Peter started to wake at one point, but Percy knocked him out again with a spell, _Stupify!_ Harri observed closely, and decided to learn _that_ spell, as well as the _incarcerous_ spell, as soon as possible.

Harri saw several owls flapping away from the train while staring out the window thinking over what had happened. Some students, it appeared, could not wait until they arrived at Hogwarts before notifying their parents of the thrilling news regarding Peter, and Harri Potter, the _girl!_

Not soon enough, it was several very quiet hours later, the word came that the train was approaching Hogwarts. Percy, after some badgering by Harriet, had shown them both the _incarcerous_ and _stupefy_ spells, which the four in the compartment had practiced on each other until they got it right, learning _ennervate_ as well. The boys left the compartment to change into the robes, while Harri just opened her trunk and slipped her robe over her dress. No need for privacy for that.

Headmaster Dumbledore, followed by a pale teacher with greasy black hair and a permanent sneer on his face, entered the compartment almost before the train stopped. "Headmaster, Professor Snape," Percy greeted them as they came in. The Headmaster looked over the compartment, his gaze lingering when he reached Harri, but he said nothing to her.

"Well, this is certainly a surprise, to see Peter alive and well," said the Headmaster as he stared at the man intently. "Professor Snape, if you please." Scowling, the teacher levitated the knocked out and bound Pettigrew off the seat, out of the compartment, and off the train.

They could hear the other students congregating outside the train, with voices yelling directions to the different groups. The Headmaster looked at the students in the compartment. "This must be a most interesting story; I look forward to hearing it." He sighed, "The Aurors will want to speak to you all, most likely tomorrow. I will let you know when you will need to meet them, and I will try to schedule it between your classes. I will see you at the feast," he concluded, while looking at Harri, smiling kindly.

As soon as the Headmaster left, they piled out of the compartment. It was dark out so it had been at least seven hours since lunch. They were all starving and nobody wanted to be late to dinner. And Ron still had dirt on his nose.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

_**Authors Note:**__ The train left King's Cross Station in London at 11:00AM that morning. On arriving at Hogsmeade, the sky was a deep purple and Harry could not see the trees on either side of the path to the lake. According to the Sunrise/Sunset charts, on September 1, 1991, sunset was at 8:09 PM in Edinburgh Scotland. Given that Hogwarts is built in a valley area and surrounding mountains are part of the landscape, it was probably already in twilight before 7:00 hence the trip from King's Cross Station took around eight hours. Which is weird because the regular muggle train between King's Cross Station and Edinburgh Scotland takes only four to five hours, according to the website. So, magic makes the train go lots slower?_


	5. Diminishing Expectations

**Diminishing Expectations**

Meeting Hagrid was fun and she had the feeling that if the light had been better she would have seen him blushing. The boat trip to the castle was fantastic and the Great Hall a delight. Ron's obsessing over fighting a troll had been very amusing. Stumbling around in the dark on the path and the overall tendency to ignore the students' safety and peace of mind was much less so. The ghosts had been startling.

The Great Hall, with its floating candles and starry ceiling had been everything her _Hogwarts_ book had promised. The Sorting Hat's song was interesting and a bit scary as well. It was going to be reading her mind and she wasn't exactly comfortable with that. The only consolation she had was that over the centuries she knew she couldn't be the only one who feared revelation of hidden secrets, meaning there had to be very strong safeguards preventing the Hat from telling anyone what it learned or else nobody would let their children attend the school. Mom's Confidence would handle it.

Finally, it came: "Potter, Harry. . . Harriet!" called Professor McGonagall.

There was a brief moment of silence then almost every student started talking at once, a virtual sea of whispers.

"Did she say _Potter_?"

"Wait, _Harriet_ Potter?"

"Didn't she say _Harry_ Potter?

"That's a _girl_, Harry Potter's a boy!"

"Did she really say _Harriet_ Potter?"

Students, who until now had been more concerned with when the food would arrive and gossiping with their friends about what had happened on the train, suddenly were craning their necks and half standing to get a better look at Harri as she slowly walked over to the stool. She noticed that the pale teacher with the greasy black hair she had seen on the train seemed to be glaring at her as if she offended him by just being alive.

This was just the sort of attention she hated. Only the women teachers at her old school had ever glared at her like that. Whenever it had happened, she had always gotten in trouble. At least this time Dudley wasn't around to complain about her stealing attention from him. She was relieved to reach the stool without tripping or otherwise embarrassing herself.

She put on the hat. For a moment, there was darkness as the hat slipped down over her eyes, and then a small voice started speaking. "Oh, this is unusual. I haven't seen this in a century or more. I hardly ever see one gender switched to the other. Usually, though, it's making the girl a boy for inheritance reasons. But this puts quite a spin on possibilities, good and bad."

_Wait_, thought Harri, _are you saying I really _was_ a boy once?_

"Eh? Oh, yes, it's plain as the nose on your face. Once you were a boy, no doubt about it, but now your magic says you're a girl, so a girl you are."

_Are you saying_, Harriet thought carefully, _that if I didn't have_ magic _I would be a boy?_

"Quite."

_Can I go back to being a boy?_ Harriet carefully asked.

"Only with the aid of a very strong spell, far beyond the magic you have. No spells I know of could do it."

Harriet was too stunned to think anything for several moments.

After waiting a polite amount of time for the conversation to continue, the Sorting Hat returned to what it was doing. "Back to work, right? Oh my, _that_, or rather _those_, hmmm, that explains a lot. Well as I've heard it said, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I wouldn't know myself. You are of two, no three, minds about things aren't you? Hmmm. Oh, I see, _that_ puts Hufflepuff right out, it would be setting the fox in the henhouse for sure! Slytherin, you would do well in Slytherin — ambitious, cunning, independent. . . ."

_In with a bunch of bullies? I think not! Not Slytherin!_ Harri thought, startled at the thought that _she_ would fit in with those bullies. Not Slytherin!

"Slytherin's out then, eh?" said the small voice. "Ah, yes, I see. Heh. Slytherin is out, the Headmaster would be most unhappy for that kind of blood-bath. Hm, let's dig a bit more. You're smart, but Ravenclaw? No, no that's not a good fit, you aren't someone to follow another's lead and knowledge for knowledge's sake doesn't have that special appeal for you. And _those_ would cause a few problems, yes they would. Hmmm."

_Are you going to tell anyone what you find out?_ Harri interrupted, having broken out in a cold sweat at what the Sorting Hat had learned about herself so far.

"What? Oh! No! Definitely no. The founders were very concerned about that. I can't even tell Hogwarts what I find. If I even tried to _hint_ anything I discovered, well, I would be torn apart on the spot and banished forever. I can tell you we've had some very unusual students here before, including a time traveler or two, but more than that I cannot say. Your secrets, and every other student's secrets, are safe with me, my dear."

"Well, carrying on, all things considered, it looks like it better be — GRYFFINDOR"!

The last word was a shout to the entire hall. Harri jerked off the hat; she could feel small drips of sweat running down her back. Scary, very scary, she never wanted to do that again. She walked on unsteady legs to the Gryffindor table, whose students seemed to be of three minds. One group, a very small group comprised mainly of the Weasley twins, and some of their friends, were cheering loudly. Another group, much larger, seemed confused and were clapping politely. The majority seemed to be of the opinion that any Potter, even a girl Potter, was better than no Potter, and they were applauding enthusiastically. Or, perhaps they hadn't heard she was a girl.

The next to last person sorted was Ron and she could tell that he was nervous as he put on the hat. His physical relief at the hat's almost instantaneous shout — Gryffindor — was obvious, and he quickly ran to the table and collapsed beside Harri on the bench seat. As she listened to Percy congratulate his brother, she quickly realized the Prefect wasn't nearly as much fun as his brothers. In fact, he seemed quite taken with himself, almost preening when any of the girl Prefects looked at him, especially the girl Prefect Harri had seen with him on the train.

The ghosts were more than a little strange, and the Gryffindor's ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, definitely creeped her out.

Harri took a moment to study the High Table at the front of the Hall. On an ostentatious throne in the center sat the old bearded man from her collectible card, the one who had come onto the train. There was nothing modest or humble about _that_ throne. A normal chair in the middle of the table would have sufficed, maybe with a fancy tall backing, but that golden monster was a bit much. Did he think he was a King or maybe an Emperor?

Sitting on either side of him in chairs with normal shoulder-high wooden backs were the other teachers, six on each side. One peculiar individual had a purple turban; the pasty-faced teacher with the long greasy black hair who was still glaring at Harri was sitting beside him.

The food was everything Harri could have wished for, varied, filling, delightful, unlimited. Unfortunately, Harri filled up rather quickly and could only look longingly at the deserts when they appeared. She had never had such a fine meal. When no one was looking, she took several of the pastries and stuffed them in one of her robe pockets, wrapped in napkins, of course. She wondered how much she could smuggle into her trunk kitchen freezer pantry before summer.

The dinner conversation was enlightening, and hearing Neville's story of his Uncle Algie left her with a bad taste in her mouth. What was it with abusive uncles? It also gave her a much better understanding of his shyness. The ghost's stories were not nearly as enlightening, but Ron obviously disagreed with that assessment.

She watched Hagrid at the High Table as she listened to her fellow students discussing their parents and if they were muggles or not. She managed to evade the questions about her being Harry Potter by saying she knew for a fact that she was neither his sister nor a cousin, and that she had never heard of him before she got her Hogwarts letter. And she was certainly telling the truth when she said she had never met him. Hagrid noticed her looking at him and he waved, and then blushed, bringing an even bigger smile to her face.

All-in-all it, was a lovely time in the Great Hall, except for one moment when she had a sharp pain in her forehead. It felt as if Dudley had just hit her, as he had when they were real little and she asked to play with one of his toys. The pain was right on top of her scar. It had happened just as she was looking at the High Table. The professor with the purple turban had leaned over to speak with pasty-face, who was glaring at her, again. The older student she asked said, "Oh? I don't know the Professor in the turban, but the teacher beside him is Professor Snape."

The start-of-term notices were a bit unsettling: avoid the third floor corridor or die? Was he mad? Were they all mad? Who would put something dangerous enough to kill in a school of mischievous, inordinately curious students? And then tell them exactly where to go? Wouldn't it be simpler just to seal the damn corridor off with a temporary wall? Or better yet, not put whatever it was in the castle at all! The Headmaster did introduce the man in the turban, though, telling the students that Professor Quirinus Quirrell would be teaching Defense Against Dark Arts this year.

The walk to their dorms was confusing, what with passages hidden behind paintings and all. She knew she was going to get lost if she tried to do it herself. The poltergeist Peeves was a surprise. Why would they allow a poltergeist to haunt the castle and attack the students? Sure, his pranks were fairly harmless, but still. . . .

Percy chased him off with the threat of calling for one of the ghosts, the one he called the Bloody Baron. Just before leaving, though, Peeves glanced at Harri, and then turned back for a longer look, before racing down the hall, rattling coats of armour as he did so.

Harri thought that the door to the dormitory for the Gryffindor students being _behind_ a portrait that swung out and they had to _climb through_ the round hole behind it was absurd. The wizards were too stupid to make a painting frame that reached the floor? And they were fooling nobody with that ploy; every student in the school would know where the entrances to all the Houses were within a week, two at the most.

The password system was equally silly, How they could expect 200-plus students to keep a password secret for more than five minutes was beyond her. Why not use a simple spell that allowed only a current House student or faculty member to enter? And if he, or she, wanted to bring a friend over from another House, then a sign-in system could be used where the House student was responsible for the visitor's behavior. Stupid Wizards, trying to be clever, and failing.

The seven First Year girls, it turned out, shared a circular room. Each bed was a standard-sized single-bed, about the size of her bed at the Dursleys. Each bed was also a wooden four-post-with-solid-canopy structure, with privacy curtains. To the right of each bed and in front of an arched window was a study desk and stool. On the left was a tall, but not very wide six-drawer dresser. There was a small two-foot gap between the dresser and the next bed's study desk. Harri located her bed simply by finding her trunk at the base of it. The other girls opened their trunks and pulled out pajamas or nightgowns.

Harri moved her trunk over in front of the dresser by her bed and opened it up. She had plenty of room to stand in front of the open trunk without it intruding on the space between her dresser and the next bed's study desk by more than a few inches. While she fiddled with her trunk's placement before setting the sticking charm on it, the other girls changed into their pajamas or nightgowns.

All six girls were excited over everything that had happened, but they spent only a few minutes talking before they started nodding off to sleep. As soon as Harri thought she could do it without attracting their attention, she opened her trunk's second drawer and took out her two hand-made yarn dolls.

With her curtains securely closed, and a _muffliato_ spell in place, she propped her dolls on her pillow and proceeded to tell her mum and dad about her day. She told them about the train station, the train, meeting the Weasleys, Draco and his "thugs," discovering Peter Pettigrew, the wonderful dinner, the strange warning about the third floor corridor, Peeves, and the bizarre path required to go from the Great Hall to their dorm. The most important feature about the whole day, she thought, was her actually making friends.

In her first year at primary school, Dudley hadn't helped by scaring everyone into avoiding her, and blaming her as the culprit for anything that went wrong. By her second year the entire class was convinced she was evil incarnate at worst or merely a lying, cheating, back-biting bitch at the best. Thus, all her peers from the neighborhoods served by the school avoided her like the plague. It was an avoidance habit most kept into the higher grades without Dudley's help. And one that they made sure new students learned as well. Her teachers — and for some odd reason her teacher was always a man — with their many "detentions" to keep her after school for "extra work" had also discouraged anyone from befriending her at her old school.

When she finished, she carefully put her mum and dad in their secure drawer, locked it closed, and went to bed.

Harri had a nightmare, not unusual, but the subject matter was. Instead of green lights flashing, screaming, and maniacal laughing, it was about wearing Professor Quirrell's purple talking turban. It was complaining that there had to be a mistake and wondering where the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, was hiding.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Next morning, Harriet took advantage of the fact that TFS couldn't tell her not to take a shower, and took a nice long hot one. Wonderful fluffy towels were in a rack beside each shower stall, much nicer than the ancient and worn towel Aunt 'Petunia insisted she use the few times she was allowed to shower at home. The towels were even nicer than the ones in the hotel. She didn't notice the odd looks she got from a few of the other girls as she went back to her dorm room without a bathrobe because she didn't have one.

Finding their way back to the Great Hall would have been an adventure for the six girls, except Jane Yuri, the Gryffindor Girl's Prefect, woke them early enough so they could follow her to the Great Hall. There was a bit of excitement just after they started breakfast as a flock of hundreds of owls flew in to deliver mail and, Harri saw, copies of a newspaper with the banner _The Daily Prophet_.

So it was a newspaper!

That would have been excitement enough for the First Years, seeing all the owls delivering the mail — and sometimes dropping it right in the student's eggs and waffles — but the headline for the _Prophet_ garnered its own excitement. Harri couldn't see what the news was about, but it must have had something to do with her because all the students were looking her way. Finally, Fred saw her confusion and gave her his copy.

_PETER PETTIGREW ALIVE!_ and _HARRY POTTER BOOKS A LIE!_ bannered the front page, the articles splitting the newspaper vertically into two halves.

The first article recounted what had happened on the Hogwarts express the previous day, including two pictures: one a close-up of Peter and the other showing Peter and Percy Weasley (see Weasley Family article on the inside) together. It explained how three First Years had discovered Peter while playing with spells they had read about, which was _not_ a violation of the prohibition against underage magic because they were not _yet_ students and therefore it was considered "accidental" magic (see Rules Regarding "Accidental" Magic article inside). Plus, they were on the Hogwarts Express, which is considered an extension of Hogwarts, and that therefore meant they were exempt from the underage magic prohibition (see Hogwarts Express & Hogwarts Magic article inside).

The details were messed up and speculation on who this Harriet Potter was, and what relation she was to Harry Potter (see Who is Harry Potter? article inside), were rampant and bordered on slander. One speculation was that Harry was a poof and cross-dressing as a girl. However, the thrust of the article was that Peter being alive meant that someone by the name of Sirius Black (see Sirius Black article inside) could not be the one who killed those twelve muggles on Halloween night, 1981 (see 1981 Muggle Massacre article inside). And if he _hadn't_ done it, was he _also_ innocent of turning the Potters over to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (see You-Know-Who and the Potters article inside)?

Harri shook her head in disbelief. This "newspaper," and she used the term loosely, was more gossip than news. And Uncle Vernon thought _The Daily Mail_ was gossipy! The vendors had always complained about newspapers and magazines never getting the details right and making things up, well now she had personal experience to see the truth of it for herself. The article inside on the Wizard War gave details she hadn't read in the history books, but she wasn't sure how accurate they were as it concluded that an Ancient and Noble Wizard family had cared for baby Harry and that he was attending Hogwarts under an assumed name with the Headmaster's permission.

The Harry Potter Books article gave details on how all the publishers who printed Harry Potter books had been hit with violation of privacy, slander, defamation of character, and forgery lawsuits, and that all the stories published were fabrications from the authors' fantasies. Not a single one of them even came close to the truth, according to Harry Potter's solicitor.

Harri had to struggle not to break into a huge smile at the news, instead frowning and shaking her head as if she had no idea what was going on.

The newspaper used the picture from Truckle's Trunks for the appearance of the "real" Harry Potter, as authenticated by his recently retained lawyer (see Tonk & Tonk & Potter article inside). At the end of the article were brief notes telling the readers to see the articles about _Harry Potter's Enchanted Trunks_ and _Harry Potter's Enchanted Quills_! Solicitor Tonks, it seemed, had a wonderful sense of timing, and placement, as opposite the page with those articles was an advertisement for the new _Amanuensis_ store in Hogsmeade, due to open, coincidentally, the first weekend in October that Hogwarts allowed students to visit Hogsmeade (see the companion Amanuensis Expanding article), with special sale prices for that weekend only.

Harri almost didn't finish breakfast because she was reading the newspaper, but she couldn't eat much anyway. Ron had snagged an issue as well and immediately discovered, to his outrage, that The Chudley Cannons' lead beater, Joey Jenkins, had been injured and would miss the first three games of the season.

Professor McGonagall, the Head of Gryffindor House handed out their class schedules halfway through breakfast with a warning to the First Years to get an early start so they wouldn't get lost. Harri, Neville, Hermione, and Ron, however, were told to go to the Headmaster's office as were Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater. Students stared as they left the Great Hall well before classes were scheduled to start, but they stared at all of them and not just Harri, so she felt a bit better about it.

The gargoyle in front of the Headmaster's office, clearly expecting them, moved aside as they arrived, so they went right on up the stairs. The office itself was a huge room lined with bookcases, cabinets filled with all sorts of spinning, whirling, squeaking, and plinking gadgets, and portraits of past headmasters. One side of the office was a pillared platform with an enormous wooden desk and still more bookcases, two stories high, behind it.

Waiting for them were the Headmaster himself, seated behind his desk, and a woman and two men. The strangers were all dressed in the same style brown robes, which reminded Harri of those things called trench coats she had seen on the telly. They looked much more impressive and stylish than the uniforms the Bobbies wore. Dumbledore stood as the students approached.

"Ah," said the Headmaster, "here they are now." He looked at Harri with a twinkle in his eyes, "This is Percy Weasley — the Gryffindor Boys Prefect who bound Pettigrew — and Penelope Clearwater — the Ravenclaw Girls Prefect who was with him. And these are the Gryffindor students who were in the compartment when they discovered Peter: Harriet Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Neville Longbottom." He indicated each student as he named him, or her, and they nodded in acknowledgment. Then he pointed to the other adults, "This witch is Auror Amelia Bones — Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Auror MacDavis, and Auror Gudgeon." He paused. "They would like you to tell them what happened yesterday, in your own words."

What followed was a long, boring, exhausting morning as the Aurors interviewed them individually. The Aurors used _muffliato_ to prevent the students from hearing each other's stories. Headmaster Dumbledore, as their "in parentis loco," listened in to each interview.

Harriet's seemed to take the longest; although, she was sure, each of them felt like their interview took the most time. This was a Consequences situation — carefully bland or blank expressions and tiptoeing around facts, conceal anything that might result in bad things happening. Hide any reaction that didn't fit what they expected.

Ameila stared at her for the longest time before asking. "Are you related to Harry Potter, the son of Lilly and James Potter?"

"I'm not a sibling, nor a cousin to this Harry Potter person. I had never heard of him until I met Hagrid and he told me about Harry Potter." Nervous, she was nervous, but it was okay to be nervous. Not being nervous would be unusual. "I live with my Aunt and Uncle, the Dursleys, they're muggles. I also have a cousin, their son, Dudley. He's also a muggle because he turned eleven last summer the month before I did and he didn't get a letter."

Watch what you say, lead them the direction you want them to head. "My parents died when I was a year old and I remember nothing specific about them." Do not lie, under no circumstances tell a lie. "My Aunt and Uncle told me they were sots who died in a drunk-driving traffic accident." Skirt the edge of a lie, but don't let them know there's more to it than what you're saying.

She had told the absolute truth, their "truth detecting" spell indicated that she believed what she had said. As long as the Aurors didn't ask for the names of her parents, her secret was safe.

"Must be her parents were from a squib branch of the family," remarked one Auror,

Excellent, encourage that thought.

"My Aunt and Uncle _never_ mentioned _any_ of our relatives being a Wizard or Witch," she volunteered helpfully. "In fact Uncle Vernon was _very_ surprised when my Hogwarts letter arrived." Not to mention absolutely furious.

The Aurors considered that. Whether or not she was related to the famous Harry Potter was puzzling, but a side issue to why they were here. They moved on to what had happened on the train, from when she boarded until she left. They let her tell the whole story, only asking questions to clarify a point.

"Why did you look up the animagus revealing spell, _manifesto_, before getting on the train? Did you know Peter was an unregistered animagus and that he was hiding with Ron Weasley?"

"How could I have known that? I had never heard of the Weasley family before I got on the train. I had read about Peter in my _Modern Magical History_ book, but it said he was dead.

"The reason I looked up and practiced the spell was. . . well I was scared. I read in my _Everything You Wanted to Know About Hogwarts_ book that there are some Wizards who can turn themselves into animals like birds, and rats and dogs and such. And the thought that a man could pretend to be a small animal so I or a friend would bring him into my bedroom where he could hide and then attack me at night. . . well, that scared me. A lot." The Aurors exchanged a look amongst themselves. "I got rather obsessed with it actually and practiced that spell for days. I went into my yard and spent hours finding moles and snakes and birds and casting the spell at them. I never knew if it worked because nothing ever happened, but that didn't stop me from practicing. I kept doing it over and over." She was babbling, now, but that was good because it would make them think she wasn't paying attention to what she said, that she wasn't censoring her words.

"Then, after that prat Draco and his buddies tried to force themselves into our compartment, well, I started thinking about that again, and there was Ron's rat, and he had said his brother had had it for a long time, and that made me suspicious because rats don't live very long. But maybe it was a magical rat and those lived longer, but why take a chance? So, I did it. And there he was.

"I even cast the spell on Neville's toad, but nothing happened except Trevor, the toad, got really annoyed at me, and turns his back to me now."

She looked up at them anxiously.

Ms. Bones had watched her carefully, noting her body language as well as her words. She asked a few more questions regarding what happened afterwards: whom she had talked to, and what about. Just before canceling the silencing spell, she said, "Oh, by the way, your Jelly Legs jinx worked quite well. Caught us all by surprise when we removed the binding spell and Peter fell down the moment he tried to walk."

Harri blushed, "Thanks," she mumbled. Then she had a thought, "Oh! What does this mean for that other man, uh, Black I think his name is? _The Daily Prophet_ said everyone thought he had killed this Pettigrew bloke."

The Auror stopped and looked at Harri. "We're checking that out now. We're going to interrogate him quite carefully." She then canceled the silencing spell.

"Thank you, Headmaster," she said, "Thank you all," she nodded towards the students, "You have been a great help to us today." The Aurors went over to the fireplace at the side of the room, and one at a time each took some powder from a bowl on the mantle, threw it into fireplace while saying, "Ministry for Magic Atrium," and then stepped into the green flames to disappear. Harri and Hermione stared. "Is that the floo network?" asked Hermione. "Yeah," answered Ron and Neville.

"That was most interesting," said the Headmaster as he watched them, eyes twinkling. "As exciting a tale as I had expected. Peter being alive is a momentous event and the repercussions will be interesting," that last he said while looking at Harriet. He returned to his chair behind his desk. "Percy, you handled that very well, as I would have expected you to." He looked at the four First Years. "I'm afraid you've missed your first class today, 'History of Magic.' I'm sure one of your fellow students will lend you their notes. But before you leave," he picked up a quill and wrote something on a parchment and then tapped it with his wand to create four copies. "You'll need these excused slips for your Professor. Percy, Penelope," he added, handing them different parchments.

The two Prefects bustled off immediately after leaving the office to do something Percy termed "important." The remaining four looked around them. "Now what?" asked Ron. "Well," said Hermione, looking at her self-winding watch, "it's 10:45 so we should head to Charms." She sighed, "If we can find it."

Professor Flitwick, they found, was tiny, needing to stand on a stack of books to see over his desk. He was also quite excitable, falling off the books and disappearing from sight when he reached Harriet Potter's name on the roll call. He seemed quite confused when he realized Harri was a girl.

After lunch, they had transfigurations with Professor McGonagall, whose approach to teaching was very matter-of-fact, no nonsense allowed. The first day's task was to transform a match into a needle, only Hermione succeeded. Then they had Defense Against Dark Arts which was completely useless as Professor Quirrell appeared afraid of his own shadow. His severe stutter rendered his speech nearly impossible to understand. And he smelled strongly of garlic.

With Defense Against the Dark Arts being their last class of the day, they spent the rest of their afternoon doing homework — they had homework, already! — until dinner at four came around. After that, they spent the rest of the evening in the Gryffindor Common Room working on their homework and getting to know the rest of the students in their House. Finally, around nine, most students started drifting up the stairs to their rooms and heading for bed. Harri deliberately waited a bit after the other six girls went up the stairs together, pretending she had a bit more work she wanted to finish.

The other girls were already in bed with their curtains closed when Harri finally came in. She took advantage of that to retrieve her mum and dad from her trunk.

She told them about the wonderful breakfast, the interview in the Headmaster's Office, what the teachers were like, how much homework they had been given, how dinner had rivaled Sunday night's dinner, which they should remember her telling them about yesterday. The only other notable event of the day was how the four of them got lost after leaving the Headmaster's Office and ran into Argus Filch and his cat, Mrs. Norris. She explained how Argus had threatened to take them to the dungeons for sneaking around the forbidden third floor corridor when Professor Quirrell, of the smelly garlic, rescued them.

Harri asked them what they thought of the school having a pranking poltergeist and such a disagreeable man as the custodian. Filch couldn't even use magic to take care of the building, for goodness sake; he had to resort to muggle methods for everything.

That actually seemed kind of cruel, forcing him to work hard for hours using muggle methods to clean and care for the building when most of the students could have done the same things in a few minutes with magic. They agreed with her that it _was_ very odd. They told her that she should always be polite to him and his cat, and maybe she should carry some treats from the tables for the cat. Later, when she knew more, maybe she could charm his tools to make his work easier. Harri agreed, it couldn't hurt.

Her dad suggested she should try to get on Peeves good side by offering to get him some pranking supplies, and maybe even helping him with pranks. Mum, after a few disapproving words to her Dad, suggested avoiding him entirely.

Then she said good night to them, locked them safely back her trunk, and went to sleep. If she had a nightmare, she didn't remember it.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Their schedule for the next three days of the week replaced History with Herbology, Neville's favorite subject, but was otherwise the same. Friday, though, Friday was Double Potions with the Slytherin First Years as the only class.

Ron, despite his brothers stories, or maybe because of them, had taken a reasonable "let's wait and see" attitude towards Professor Snape, even though he was the Head of Slytherin House.

Harri had already taken the opportunity to show off her quills to her friends and was more than happy to "loan" her extra quills to them. Ron especially liked the perfectly formed letters and straight lines that were smudge-free. Hermione had bossily insisted that they should learn how to use the quills properly and ended up in an argument with Ron with both storming off in opposite directions at the end. With one of Harri's Harry Potter's quills each, of course. Harri decided that if Hermione wanted more friends than the three of them she was going to have to cut out the "I know better than you attitude."

Friday breakfast was fabulous, as it had been every day. Harri's only regret was that she couldn't eat more of it. The daily owl mail drop was always fun to watch, as the way the owls delivered the mail indicated how they got along with the recipient. Harri had noticed that several owls always seemed to drop the mail for their student squarely into his or her plate, or knock over their morning juice or milk. Then, with the kid distracted by the mini-disaster in front of them, the birds would steal their bacon or bangers.

A few owls seemed to delight in dragging the mail through the juiciest parts of the meal before delivering it, sometimes standing in the middle of the juice or pancake syrup puddle they had just created, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the parchment or package they carried was soaking up the puddle like a sponge.

Other owls always politely landed neatly _between_ the dishes on the table and waited for their student to remove the mail or package from their leg. Those students always made sure to reward their owl with generous amounts of bacon and meat, as well as pet and stroke them while praising the owls for the just completed delivery job. Harri made sure to give Hedwig as much bacon or as many bangers as she wanted when she flew in with the rest, even though she didn't have any mail for her.

Harri was amused to note that the Slytherin table seemed to have the more problematic owl deliveries.

Today, though, Hedwig surprised Harri with a message from Hagrid inviting her to visit him at three. She was delighted to respond in the affirmative, and told her friends of his invite. This prompted a short conversation among the four about who Hagrid was and how she had met him. Since their adventures on Sunday and Monday, and that they all had the same classes, Harriet and Hermione had taken to sitting with Ron and Neville. Hermione wanted to study, but Harri convinced her that meeting a half-giant was a learning experience that she shouldn't pass up.

There was some minor turmoil over at the Slytherin table over something in _The Daily Prophet_. A nearby third-year student let Harri look at her copy. The article that seemed to be generating all the interest was about Sirius Black.

**Lord Black Innocent!**

_The Ministry of Magic yesterday announced that Lord Sirius Black is innocent of all charges that saw him incarcerated in Azkaban for the last nine years and ten months. The investigation was triggered when Peter Pettigrew, thought to have been killed by Sirius in 1981, was discovered alive and well on the Hogwarts Express this last Sunday, September 1__st__ (see Pettigrew Found on Hogwarts Express article inside). Pettigrew was hiding as a rat belonging to Ron Weasley (see The Ancient Weasley Family article inside), and therefore is an unregistered animagus. The Ministry also cleared Lord Black of charges that he betrayed the Potter family to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (see Potter's Secret Keeper article inside)_

_ "It took us less than five minutes to determine the true events of that Halloween night in 1981," said Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Amelia Bones. "He was not, as everyone thought, the Secret Keeper for the Potters. Lord Black said Peter Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper, and Peter Pettigrew readily admitted so under __veritaserum__." __Veritaserum__ is a potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth as they know it._

_Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban, without a trial or investigation, based on his statement at the scene in London, "I killed them, it's all my fault, I killed them." Aurors at the disaster in 1981 misconstrued that to be a confession that he had led He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to the Potters and that he had killed the twelve muggles and Peter Pettigrew in London. No one bothered to ask Sirius Black what he meant by his statement._

_Department Head Amelia Bones called this ". . . one of the greatest miscarriages of justice the Wizarding World has ever seen. That an Heir to a Most Ancient and Most Noble House could be taken from the street and sent to Azkaban without ever being questioned is simply unconscionable. The law requiring interrogating suspects cannot be ignored for the sake of convenience. The people responsible should be charged and, if guilty of breaking the law, punished."_

_Another unanswered question is why Lord Black's friend and mentor Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore (see Order of the Phoenix article inside) never questioned why one of his faithful followers would suddenly betray him, or why he never asked to speak with Lord Black for his side of the story._

The newspaper went into more details of the investigation, concluding that Lord Black would be spending an undetermined amount of time in St. Mungo's undergoing rehabilitation from his terrible experience in Azkaban with the Dementors.

There wasn't an interview with the man himself, but an unnamed Auror was quoted as saying the first question Lord Black asked on being brought from Azkaban was "Where's Harry Potter?" A question, the newspaper concluded, no one but his solicitor at Tonks & Tonks seemed to know. And Harry's solicitor was refusing all questions.

After she finished the article she gave the newspaper to Ron, who, to his immense disgust, almost immediately discovered that The Chudley Cannons' lead beater, Joey Jenkins, was going to miss the first five games of the season, not three as had been originally thought.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

The potions room was buried in the dungeons of the castle, where it was cooler. Only the north facing wall had windows, and those were at the very top to let in light. The room didn't need the pickled animals in glass jars on its shelves to make it feel creepy.

Snape started in on Harri almost immediately, saying "Ah, yes, Harry Pot-ter. Our new — celebrity," while taking roll call. The Slytherins were amused, especially Draco and his goons.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Harri was impressed, this sounded like a wonderful class. No wand-waving — did that mean even a muggle could learn to make potions? Hermione, beside her, was fairly vibrating in her seat, determined to prove she wasn't one of those dunderheads.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

_Powdered what to an infusion of what?_ Harri was stumped. Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know, sir," said Harri.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut — fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione's hand was even higher than before.

That one she remembered reading. "I think you find it in a goat's stomach. It's used. . . as an antidote to most poisons, I think."

Hermione dropped her hand to her lap.

Snap glared at Harri. Was he upset Harri actually knew the answer?

"What is the difference, Pot-ter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione again stretched her hand toward the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," said Harri quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

"Stop popping you hand up like a jack-in-the-box," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Pot-ter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite." He swept his gaze across the room, "Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

And things did not improve. Neville managed to melt Ron's cauldron, earning a dressing down he had to endure while breaking out in painful boils over his entire body. Professor Snape turned and blamed Harriet for not stopping Neville from ruining the potion he and Ron were working on, taking another point away from Gryffindor. Then he ordered Ron to take Neville to the hospital wing of the school. That was when Harri knew for sure that the professor did not like her. She had no idea why that was so, she had never met the man before, except on the train. And that had only been in passing.

The rest of the class went quietly, and Harri considered her options carefully. Finally, she decided it was time to bring Confidence to the fore. That had always worked when Uncle Vernon had ordered her to ensure Dudley's good grades, at any cost, or else.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

**Author's Note:**_ I discovered this oddity in researching the Gryffindor First Year girls: there were six of them, not five, just as there were six Gryffindor boys! Lavender Brown became best friends with Parvati Patil. Fay Dunbar became best friends with a ginger-haired Gryffindor First Year in braids, possibly the elusive Lily Moon. Kellah was a black girl. Add in Hermione and you get SIX girls, not five as everyone seems to assume. The sixth Gryffindor boy was Bem, also a black, who, for some reason, had a dorm room all to himself. Check the Harry Potter Wiki._


	6. Tea Time

**Tea Time**

_**Author's Note:**__ Sakura: Snape's picking on Harriet, at first at least, is because he's thinking the whole "Harriet" thing is just an act; that the boy is getting his jollies by pretending to be a girl and because of he is famous the adults let him get away with it. Sirius? Yeah, he'll show up, but he's looking for a BOY, it'll take a while for him to cotton to the fact that the gender has changed. Harri wanting to become Harry was in the hope of avoiding "Uncle's" attentions and a return to the hotel. To her becoming a boy is sort of a "get out of jail FREE" card. Vernon couldn't very well convince his clients that Harry is a girl when the equipment doesn't match. Harri thinks everything would change if she was a boy - she's 11 (many little girls say, "if only I were a boy, my parents would let me ..." you fill in the blank). And long-term consequences are a difficult concept at that age. The old coot? Well, we'll have to wait and see what happens._

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

"Oh, Merlin!" Harri heard Professor McGonagall's despairing voice echo from the Potion's Classroom storage room. There ensued some furious and rapid whispering. After a few minutes, both Professors came out of the room.

It startled Harri to see Professor McGonagall almost as pale as Professor Snape, her mouth compressed to an almost invisible line. And the look she gave Harri! The woman was barely controlling her temper. What _had_ Professor Snape told her? How much trouble was Harriet in?

Stiffly, clearly forcing herself to be calm, Professor McGonagall said, "Thank you, Professor Snape, for bring this to my attention so promptly. After your classes conclude this afternoon please come to my office." Her eyes flickered to Harri, "Miss Potter, please get your things."

Harri jumped up and darted to her potions table, snatching up her purse. The professors continued their discussion. "I'm sure the Headmaster will call a meeting so we can develop a strategy for this, this. . . ," she was close to losing her temper, ". . . situation," she finally spat out.

"Indeed," agreed Professor Snape dryly, staring at Harri. He wasn't as angry as McGonagall was, but he, too, was holding back his emotions. It wasn't a glare of hatred, anymore, that he settled on Harri, but behind his obvious anger there seemed to be. . . sadness?

"Come with me, Miss Potter," ordered the woman professor as she stalked to the dungeon door. Harri had to hurry to catch up. There was a small crowd of students in the hall, all buzzing with curiosity at what was delaying their class, when McGonagall threw open the door to the Potions Classroom. The noise level increased as an obviously furious professor swept into the hall, a small Firstie tagging along in her wake.

"Isn't that Harriet?"

"Wonder what she did to get the prof so pissed?"

"Wow, first day of Potions and someone's already fanny deep in shite," a boy said

"Watch your language, arsehole," she heard a girl hiss.

By then they were too far from the students to hear much more, except the startled yelp of a student who didn't realize Professor Snape was behind her when he loudly said "Well, Why are all of you dawdling out here? Get to your seats!"

She had to half-run to keep up with the Professor's pace down the corridor. Neither said anything until after they had ascended a staircase to the main floor. Professor McGonagall slowed down and addressed Harri in an even tone, "We are going to the hospital wing to see Healer Poppy Pomfrey. Professor Snape noticed some irregularities in your health and we feel it best to check them out. You'll be getting a full physical, but it won't take long at all. You are not in any trouble."

Harri mulled that over, relieved at not being in trouble but wondering why they cared about her health, nobody else ever had.

"No injuries, Madam Pomfrey," declared the professor as they entered the hospital wing. Ron was sitting at the base of a bed occupied by Neville. Neville was recovering nicely, Harri saw. The boils were just vague red spots now and he didn't seem to be in pain.

Madam Pomfrey, it turned out, was an older woman with grey hair peeking out from underneath her Victorian-era nurses cap. And her clothes were just as old-fashioned. She would have fit in perfectly in a Victorian-era hospital drama.

McGonagall directed Harri to bed and swept the curtains at the sides forward to shield her from Ron and Neville. "Up on the bed," she ordered in a no-nonsense tone. Harri complied and sat waiting, as her professor went over to inform the Healer on why they were there.

She heard the nurse tell the two students, "You two may go now. Mr. Longbottom, the spots will fade shortly. If you have any pains after lunch, come back here for another pain potion, but that's unlikely. Be more careful next time, I don't want to see you in here _next_ Friday." The stone walls reflected and carried her voice around the ward. If you didn't want everyone to hear you, Harri realized, you would have to talk quietly or whisper.

Ron and Neville gave her a quick wave as they walked by the end of her bed, and she waved back, rolling her eyes at the absurdity of her being here.

Moments later the two women were standing in front of her. Madam Pomfrey smiled at Harri, and then said "Hello, Harriet. Please put your purse on the table, there. And your wand if it's not in your purse. We don't want any magical items interfering with the medical scan."

Sighing, Harri pushed up her right-hand sleeve and felt around the buckles on her wand holster. The two women watched her curiously, as she fumbled with something neither of them could see. Harri discovered it's quite difficult to undo a buckle when you can't see the loop, pin, tang, or the leather strap through them. Fortunately, as soon as one buckle came off, the entire holster became visible and, while difficult to do one-handed, at least she could see what she was doing.

Professor McGonagall was especially impressed with the device and asked a few questions about her holster, deciding, "I believe I need to stop in at Ollivanders, soon."

Then she reached up and removed her glasses, placing the now visible frames beside her wand case. Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall stared. "You wear glasses?" the Healer asked.

"Yes, ma'am, I had them spelled to be invisible when I was wearing them so they wouldn't get in my way, and another spell so they can't be knocked off my face by accident."

"I see. Well, now, relax," Madam Pomfrey told Harri, "and sit very still. This will only take a few moments." She moved her wand in an intricate pattern while saying something long in Latin.

A parchment with a quill appeared and started making notes with the two women reading as it progressed.

Their muttered conversation wasn't very informative as it consisted mostly of things like, "Look at that," "That must have been unbearable at the time," and "Look, that happened several times."

When it was completed, the Healer said, "Fine, that's done. We may have to vanish a bone or two to restore symmetry, but nothing else that a vigorous potion campaign can't fix." She smiled again at Harri. "It look like you haven't been eating right for a long time, so I'm going to give you two potions to take every day with lunch for a couple of weeks to restore you to proper health. It won't help you with your height at first — you should be several inches taller, you know — but you'll make up for that in the next couple of years."

Harri nodded. She knew the Dursleys weren't feeding her properly, but what could she do? She was only a kid and hadn't any money to buy her own food. Oh, wait, now she did!

"In the meantime, Saturday night I want you back here so I can fix those bones!"

Harri nodded again.

"Now, lie down a moment, dear, I have one more quick scan."

Harri again complied. The bed was very comfortable. Not as comfortable as her dorm bed, or the bed she had in her trunk, but it was nice.

Again, the Healer waved her wand and said something in Latin. It was a bit shorter, though, and she waved her wand specifically over Harri's lower stomach. The parchment and quill appeared and started writing. The two women examined what appeared closely. Healer Pomfrey almost immediately put her hand over her mouth while Professor McGonagall looked ready to explode.

Concerned, Harri wondered if they had found cancer or something equally serious.

Before she could ask what was wrong, though, Madam Pomfrey spoke up. "Harri, I've found some injuries here," she waved her hand vaguely over the girl's lower abdomen. "But don't worry, I have a potion or two that will put things to right. If you'll excuse us, you wait here and relax while I prepare the first potions. You should be out of here in time to make it to lunch with your friends."

The two women walked away towards the Healers office. Halfway there, Madam Pomfrey started in on Professor McGonagall. "You knew! You _knew_! I haven't seen things like that since 1980 and those women in Hogsmeade were attacked by Death Eaters! And she's just a child! What the hell is going on?"

Shit. Harri have should of expected that. She knew what people meant when they said a woman had been attacked by men, especially if it's in the plural. Uncle Vernon had been very detailed about the things that happened to women like her who were alone on the streets. He had delighted in showing her every time there was a newspaper report of a rape. He had emphasized that at least at _his_ house she was safe from random attacks, and she should be grateful for that. Naturally, a magical look at her health would reveal evidence of what TFS had let his clients, vendors, and selected associates do with her. What was going to happen now?

"You need to see this," McGonagall responded. What she needed to see, Harri couldn't see as they had moved out of the narrow range of view her privacy curtains allowed.

Were they going to expel her now? She had never had her secret exposed at school before, and the few teachers that knew were not about to spread the news as they would lose access to her, if it became known. At the very beginning, TFS had thoroughly pounded into her to tell _no one_, don't even talk about it at _home_, never tell _anyone_ her secret.

Uncle Vernon had been clear about what would happen if people discovered her secret. They would expel her from school — no education for her! They would put her in a special prison with other people like her, she would only have gruel, or a thin swill, for food, as people in those places don't deserve proper food. When she got out, normal people would hate and shun her and she wouldn't be able to get an apartment or stay in a hotel. She wouldn't be able to get a job because she was stupid and uneducated. She would end up living on the streets, and he had already told her what would happen to her if she ended up there. In short, she would be much worse off than she was.

And now they knew.

She sat up, put on her glasses, and grabbed her wand holster and started buckling it in place. It was difficult to do, but she would rather concentrate on that than on what was going to happen now. Expelled. Well, she wasn't going to let that happen. She would call, owl, her solicitor and get her to come here and argue with them. She was a Lord! Maybe they couldn't expel her!

The wand holster faded from view just as she became aware that Professor McGonagall was beside her. She looked up and wondered why everything was so wavery.

"Here, Harriet, here's the first potion you need to take. It'll heal your latest injuries that your magic has been struggling to fix. Madam Pomfrey is collecting and ordering the other potions now." She paused, "Harri! What's wrong, why're you crying? Does something hurt?"

Harri tried to control herself, but it wasn't working. She tried to explain, but the only words she could get out were, ". . . expel me. . ." before she broke down and started crying in earnest, with huge wracking sobs that shook her entire body. She hadn't cried in years, not since that first time that TFS had discovered he had a use for her and then moved her from the cupboard under the stairs to the room beside Dudley, because TFS couldn't fit in the cupboard under the stairs.

Later, much later, she heard a voice saying, "There, there, you're all right, you're not leaving Hogwarts, you're not being expelled, we will take care of you," and then repeating it. Someone was stroking her hair. She was also lying down, in a bed, being held. And she was dressed. Fully dressed. And so was the person holding her. That was a new experience.

She remained motionless for a time, enjoying just being held, knowing that it was only temporary. Finally, McGonagall said, "Why in the name of Merlin would you think we would expel you?"

Consequences firmly in mind, she told them, in a tired, sad voice, what her Uncle Vernon had said about her secret and that now that they knew her secret, that she was a slut and a whore, she expected them to expel her because they wouldn't want a girl like her in their school with the other, normal, students. That the students and teachers would hate her anyway, they would treat her badly, call her names, and would try to get her kicked out.

She heard the professor sigh, loudly. She waited for a denial, that TFS had lied to her about that, as he had lied to her about her parents. Nothing was said for the longest time and Harri couldn't help but feel her heart sinking with every minute. It was true, then, and soon she would hear the words that would end this wonderful dream she was having. She tensed up as McGonagall, still holding her, finally started to speak.

"Harri, dear, you are not in trouble. You are not a whore. It's not your fault that that. . . man. . . forced you to do those things. We don't blame you and would never expel you simply because someone forced you to do those things. We are not going to expel you for any of this, I promise."

Harri rolled over to look her in the eyes searching to see if she was telling Harri the truth. "You promise?"

McGonagall smiled at her, kissed her on the forehead, and said, "Yes. I promise." She hugged Harri.

"But what if the other students want you to expel me for being a whore and a slut?" Harri looked away.

"Harri, you're not a whore or a slut!

"Yes I am," Harri said sadly.

"No. You're. Not."

"_Yes I am_! You don't understand!" Her voice dropped to a whisper, "It feels good, sometimes. I. . . I. . . sometimes I. . . _want_ to do those things. Sometimes. . . I. . . ," her voice dropped even lower, ". . . I start things. I. . . I. . . sometimes, sometimes I. . . I. . . _want_ to go to the hotel to do those. . . things. And I don't want to. . . to stop. Being held like that feels good. And little girls who do that are sluts and whores." Tears filled her eyes, this was the truth. She had to be a whore and a slut because only a whore and a slut would like to do what she did with those men. No decent girl would want to do those things, as TFS had delighted in telling her repeatedly. A man and his wife did those things, but a little girl who liked doing those with men she didn't even know, why that was the very definition of a slut and a whore, as TFS had told her.

There was a long silence. She knew they would expel her now.

"Harriet," said the woman softly, "you're not a whore. A woman's body is designed to find those. . . activities pleasurable. Adults _do_ like doing those things, and they aren't always married when they do them. They especially like doing them with people they love. You shouldn't be doing those things until you're much older, not for several more years at least. But that was taken from you.

"Given that you have so little love in your life, it's no wonder you would occasionally seek it out, just for the physical pleasure of it. That does _not_ make you a whore. Believe me! You are not a whore or a slut. You're a girl who has been abused by people who took advantage of their authority over you. They made you do things no girl your age should even know about, much less do. And. It's. Not. Your. Fault!"

They lay there for a long time in silence.

Mum and dad had always said that, too, but everyone else had said differently at the hotel. And while she had wanted to believe mum and dad, well, they were mum and dad and as far as they were concerned she could do nothing wrong — like the Dursleys thought of their Dudley. Except her mum and dad had scolded her for some things she had done, like the time she stole another student's pencil because it had such a pretty design on it. They had made her give it back. Finally, Harris asked, "Now what."

Professor McGonagall let go of Harri and sat up. "First, you drink this potion." She waited until Harri was sitting up before handing her the bottle that Madam Pomfrey had just given her. Harri hadn't even noticed the nurse standing beside them this whole time; she looked like she had been crying, but why? "This potion will help fix some of the problems caused by those. . . men," she said 'men' as if the word made her sick, "and what they did to you. It won't fix all of them; we'll have to give you other potions later for some of the long-term damage."

Harri drank the potion quickly, it tasted bad, but she had had much worse to drink before.

"Next," explained the professor, "I want to collect a few memories from you to help us understand what you've been through so we can prepare the potions properly."

"Memories?" Harris had a very bad feeling about that. Share her actual memories? They would actually see, hear, and feel what she had felt? She could feel her face growing hot as she blushed.

"Yes, didn't Professor Snape explain?"

"Explain what?"

"When he took that memory you gave him."

"I gave him a memory?"

Professor McGonagall looked like she was getting mad again. "Just what did he tell you in the Potions Classroom?"

Harri explained how Snape had asked her to share and then hadn't done anything except rush off to the storage room, and then asked her if he could cast a spell.

"Oh, how Slytherin of him! Had her permission, did he?" muttered the woman. "Okay, dear. Here's what he didn't explain. . . ." What followed was brief, but left her appalled. In her ignorance — she hadn't even asked him _what_ spell — she had let him read her mind and given him her memory of the day before she left for Hogwarts in all its horrific detail. And because he had 'taken' the memory, she no longer had it!

Actually, on reflection, she was of two minds about that. Good that it was gone from her memory forever, bad that others had seen it. The majority were in favor of it being a good trade. And now the professors wanted more.

It took some convincing, and the promise from Professor McGonagall that only herself, Healer Pomfrey, Professor Snape, and Headmaster Dumbledore would ever see the memories, and that they would never tell anyone else about the memories without Harriet's permission, but eventually Harri agreed.

Professor McGonagall didn't ask for anything specific, just things that would show what happened at school, at home, other things that Harri thought would show how her life was with the Dursleys. Harri settled on what her fake "detentions" at school had been like; babysitting times when the family went somewhere while she stayed at the home with a colleague of Uncle Vernon's as a sex-toy; times he had invited vendors or clients to share Harri's bed at his house instead of staying at the company hotel room, alone; Vernon's three- or four-day monthly morning wake-up calls; her all-day and overnight stays at the hotel with multiple clients and vendors; and so forth.

Because the professor had told her that they took actual memories, Harri had been very careful to select ones she _did not_ want ever to remember. It took a bit of work to find them again because Confidence had done a good job of burying them, but she felt the trade to get rid of them permanently was worthwhile. That those tended to be the worst memories, well, as far as she was concerned that was a plus. She did include one other memory of her cooking and cleaning the house back when she was only five.

Soon, Professor McGonagall had thirteen bottles with a silvery liquid in them on the side-table. "That should be sufficient. I'll look them over later."

Healer Pomfrey brought over a tray with food, juice, and two potions on it. "These are the start of your health potions, Harri. I'm afraid we're well into the lunch period, so I've had a lunch brought here for you." She rolled the bed table with the tray to Harri, who downed the potions. As she did so, the Healer continued, "Your potions will appear by your plate at lunch every day. If you miss lunch, then they'll appear at dinner, but it would be better if you took them at lunch. We'll do this for the next two weeks, and then I want you to come back for a checkup." She gave Harri a stern look, "Don't forget to come back for that check-up, I don't want to have to hunt you down." At Harri's nod, she was too busy eating to say anything, Pomfrey continued, "Depending on your progress we might have to continue a different set of potions for a while afterwards, we'll just have to wait and see." Harri nodded again.

Professor McGonagall waited for Madam Pomfrey to leave, then cast a quick _muffliato_ spell. "Harri, I want you to pay close attention to what I'm going to say. When you were born, you were born a boy. After your parents were killed — a terrible night that was — we, that is, the Headmaster, Hagrid, and myself, we left you with your only living relatives, the Dursleys. I told him they weren't the proper sort of people and that we shouldn't leave you there. But the Headmaster insisted that we had to do that, that that was the only way to protect you. He put up special wards around your home, wards that protected you and required that you live with blood relatives. The wards would also protect them, as well. And he did something else. He cast a spell that gave you the appearance of a girl. Anyone looking for a family with a new boy toddler would pass over you.

"It looks like he was right, too, the. . . bad wizards attacked and horribly tortured the Longbottoms, Neville's parents, a couple of days later and we all worried they were looking for you.

"But the spell," she looked intently into Harri's eyes, "the spell was _supposed_ to wear off. The letter the Headmaster left with you explained this quite clearly. The spell was to last until you were seven then slowly fade out over several months leaving you a boy.

"But something went wrong. We don't know what happened, but," and here her expression became very grim, "I think after seeing that memory you gave Professor Snape, that depending on when your uncle started doing those things to you that, well, maybe as the spell faded what he did forced your magic to keep you as a girl."

She sighed. "It is all very confusing. The acceptance letter went to you as Harry Potter. The registry here at Hogwarts says you are Harry. Hagrid told me that the records at Gringotts regard you as Harry." She looked back at Harriet, "But here you are, a girl. No one can deny it."

"Six," Harriet said. "The month before I was to start second year." She looked down at her now-empty plate, avoiding the professor's eyes.

McGonagall closed her eyes and a pained expression came across her fact.

"I had filled the bath too full and Dudley splashed water all over the floor. It ran into the hall. Uncle Vernon was furious and started spanking me. Then he dragged me into Dudley's toy room and threw me on the floor. That was the first time."

The professor was massaging her forehead.

"The Sorting Hat said I would probably never go back to being a boy, that it would take a very powerful amount of magic. Far more than I have. And that there are no spells that can do it."

"The Sorting Hat!" McGonagall was startled.

"Yes, it told me I used to be a boy." Harri stared out the window above the hospital bed.

They both stared out the window for a minute. Harri was deep in thought. That old wizard, it was his fault she was a girl. However, if he hadn't done that she might be dead now. But, if TFS hadn't done what he did and started taking her to that hotel room, the spell would have stopped and she would be a boy now. Yes. That fixed the blame. Uncle Vernon was the one at fault. She would have to think carefully what she wanted to do about that.

"Who are you going to tell about," Harri tiredly waved her left hand in a loose circle. "this?"

"Only the Headmaster. He must be told, things must be done to. . . help you here, and punish the ones who abused you."

Punish. "How will you do that without revealing who I am?" Punishment required police, police required evidence, and evidence required her presence. Her past would become common knowledge. Her future would be ruined.

"I don't know just yet. We'll have to work that out." She paused. "Oh, right, on a related topic. Professor Snape told me that you have your school-required robes and only one dress, one blouse, and _no_ underwear?"

She eyed Harriet suspiciously. "When I asked how that conversation came about, he said that it was not his story to tell." She paused, "Would you like to explain why you don't have an adequate wardrobe? And how he found out?"

So, Harriet told the Professor that she had never had underwear, just two dresses for as long as she could remember. As to how Professor Snape knew? Harriet had to think about how to explain that. McGonagall already knew her secret, but. . . she couldn't gloss it over.

The professor arched an eyebrow, clearly getting impatient. "Continue, please," she prompted.

She would just have to go with Consequences, "Professor Snape doesn't like me, he glares at me as if he is mad about something I did, but I haven't done anything. In class, he asked me questions about advanced potions even though this was our first class. He blamed me for Neville's potion accident even though I had nothing to do with it. Nothing I did in class was right, according to him." Harriet stopped and looked at Professor McGonagall to gauge her reaction so far. The transfigurations professor was nodding and pursing her lips.

"So I decided to do what I did in grammar school to make sure Dudley got good grades. I figured that if I gave him a reason to like me he would be fair when grading my work and papers. So, I took off my robe and blouse and started to unbuckle his pants, but he stopped me. Then he asked me if I had done that before, and if I would share."

Professor McGonagall eye's bulged out and her mouth in an "o" of surprise. "You tried to seduce him?" Her voice rose incredulously at the end of her question. "Oh, by Merlin's. . . ," she whispered. Harriet was unsure if the professor was horrified by what she heard, or was about to start laughing.

"Um, yes." Harriet tried to look as regretful as possible.

Professor McGonagall put her hand over her eyes. "And then he asked you about letting him cast a spell."

"Yes." Quietly.

"While you were naked."

"Oh, no," Harriet said earnestly, "He told me to get dressed immediately after telling me to stop undressing him."

"Thank Merlin for small mercies."

"After that, he asked about my not wearing underwear."

"I see." They sat in silence for a minute.

The professor took a deep breath and slowly released it. "Fine," she said. "We're going to Hogsmeade. Come along." Fitting actions to words, she stood and started for the door.

Harri grabbed her purse and ran after her.

Madam Pomfrey called out as Harri reached the door, "Don't forget, you have to come here Saturday night for me to fix those bones!"

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Harri stared at the dress mannequin. She had seen them in store windows as TFS drove her to and from the hotel, but she had never seen one that seemed so real and moved! At first, she had thought the woman in the dress on the stand was a saleswoman looking for something on the other side of the store. Then the real Gladrags Wizardwear saleswoman had walked up and introduced herself to them.

Professor McGonagall replied with a simple, "My student has had an accident with her trunk. She needs all new underclothes, blouses, and skirts. Everything."

An hour later Harriet had more clothes than she had ever owned, and in sets of eight! She had sweaters, blouses, underwear, skirts, socks, and even trousers and shorts! They were magically charmed always to fit when she wore them, with a self-cleaning charm to repel dirt and grim. She wouldn't need to buy clothes again unless she wanted a new fashion style or something drastic happened to them — like Neville in Potions class.

Professor McGonagall happened to look down and noticed she was wearing worn-out sandals with paper-thin soles. The thought naturally occurred to her that if Harriet didn't have adequate clothes, she probably didn't have shoes, either.

That had added a pair of boots, a pair of snow-boots, a pair of shoes, and another pair of sandals, each with their own enchantments, to the bill. The total was expensive, but considering how long she might have them to wear, they were cheap.

"Put them on the school tab, please," McGonagall said.

"No, I can pay," Harri interrupted, and surprised both her professor and the salesclerk by pulling out her bag from Truckle's Trunks and easily paying the fifty galleon, thirteen sickle, and five knut total.

"Harriet," McGonagall said as they left the store, "You should be careful about letting people know how much money you carry."

"But professor, I can't go to Gringotts to take money out whenever I need more, and I had no idea how much money I needed at school, so I took a lot. I thought it better to have more than I needed than to discover I was broke partway through the year." No need to mention the bag of gold Mr. Truckle had added to her purse.

"True, Harriet. Well, if you must carry that much I suggest you separate it into smaller quantities in smaller bags. That way no one will see you pull out what is obviously a very large bag of galleons and be tempted to rob you."

That required a quick stop at the Hogsmeade Post Office to buy several small carrying bags. The Post Office carried a line of envelopes, boxes, and bags for customers to purchase if they needed something in which to place whatever they were sending by Owl. The total was two sickles and ten knuts.

Their talk on the way back to Hogwarts was as interesting as the one they had had on the way to Hogsmeade. Although she didn't understand why Professor McGonagall wanted to know what she thought of marriage. Her? Become one of those trusting gullible stupid deluded women who actually believed her husband was the only exception to the rule that men will bed any girl or woman who lets them, regardless of his marital status? That would be as likely as the moon outshining the sun.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Hermione was at the Greenhouse Entrance to the castle when Harri got there at a quarter to three, and only a few minutes behind her were Neville and Ron. The four of them made their way across the grounds. Ron regaled them with the tale of Neville's experience in the hospital wing, while Hermione clearly wanted to ask what Harriet had talked about with Professor Snape. Harriet wanted to show off her new blouse, skirt, and knickers — the knickers had unicorns on them! She deliberately left the buttons on her robe undone so that it flared around her as they walked and they could see her crisp new white blouse and gray skirt. She was disappointed that they didn't seem to notice. However, none of them had buttoned their robes closed either.

Hagrid's wooden hut was not much bigger than the wooden shack TFS had put them all in while trying to evade the owls. Outside it were a huge crossbow, which Harri doubted most men could pick up much less use, and a set of boots that were so big Harri could probably hide in one.

The booming barks from Hagrid's hut especially were scary to Harri. Marge, TFS's sister, used to have her bulldog "Ripper" chase Harriet around the house trying to bite her. That had stopped when TFS had decided Harriet had better uses than as a dog chew toy.

"_Back_, Fang," ordered Hagrid, which the enormous dog inside ignored, as Hagrid opened the door and let them in. The hut was one big room with a massive bed, and an open fireplace currently occupied by a kettle of boiling water.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked, to Harri's immense relief. The dog still made her nervous, though. The four of them sat in a row across the bed, and Harri introduced them.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron. "I spend half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

Ron grimaced, "Yeah, I don't doubt it. Me? You can't pay me enough to go into that place." He shuddered. "The closest I want to see the Forbidden Forest is from the battlements."

"Good sense, yer got there," was Hagrid's comment.

To Neville he said, "Knew your parents. Great folks. I have some stories about 'em if'n yer interested." Neville appeared excited to hear that, as excited as Harriet had been when Hagrid had made her the same offer.

Hermione just listened, examining the room around them.

The conversation drifted between what Ron's other brothers were doing, to their classes and how they liked them, or not, and ended with the four of them complaining about Professor Snape.

Hagrid's defense of the professor seemed a bit forced to Harri, but she couldn't figure out why. That was when Harri put her empty teacup — which was the size of a small bowl — and saucer — the size of a dinner plate — on the table, moving the tea cozy out of her way. She saw a cutting from _The Daily Prophet_. The article said someone had — successfully! — broken into Gringotts and escaped unharmed! She noticed immediately that the date mentioned was the same as her birthday, when Harriet and Hagrid had visited the bank. Was there a connection? When she asked Hagrid about it, his evasion was as obvious as the one he had given her in the bank when she asked what he was picking up for the Headmaster.

After almost two hours of talking, and another cup of tea, each, they decided it was time to return to the castle.

Just as they were leaving, though, she turned and put her foot on the edge of the bed and said, "Haaagriid! Look, I have socks with moving unicorns on them!"

"That's really nice Harri," he said. As anyone would do when told 'look,' he looked.

Standing straight, she lifted her skirt and said, "And, they even match my knickers!" For a moment, he stared at the little unicorns prancing across the girl's knickers, then his eyes shot wide-open as his face turned bright red. She dropped her skirt and turned to follow the others out the door. Ron and Neville were standing in the door with their mouths open in shock. Hermione looked horrified.

"What? They're new and he hadn't seen them," she explained as she pushed them out the door.

"You showed Hagrid your knickers?" half-whispered Ron.

"Yeah, they have unicorns, see?" She lifted her skirt again. The two boys stared. Hermione looked as if she was about to faint, then she shoved Neville into Ron and knocked them both off balance. "Don't look," she ordered.

"You _aren't_ supposed to show your knickers to _boys_!" she hissed at Harriet.

Harri dropped her skirt, pouting. "Why not, they're neat!"

"You just _aren't_!"

"Then why have them if nobody ever _sees_ them?" Harri asked reasonably.

"Because _you_ know they're cute.

"And I can't show them to _anybody_?"

"Well, sometimes you can show them to your friends."

"Well, you guys are my friends, so it's okay to show you right?"

"But not to _boys_!"

"Why not?"

"Because they're _boys_!"

"But they're my _friends!_ And you just said I could show _friends_!"

"But not to _boy_ friends!"

"I can't show my _boyfriend_ my knickers?"

Ron and Neville were looking back and forth between the two, like fans at a tennis game, both still shocked at a girl suddenly showing them her underwear. Ron, at least, had a little sister whom he had seen occasionally running around the house in her knickers, but that was different. She was his _sister!_ This was a girl _his age_!

"Well, your boyfriend, maybe, if you like him a lot." Hermione was getting redder and redder in the face. Ron and Neville's eyes were so wide open you could see white completely around them.

"Well, Ron and Neville are my boyfriends so I can show them."

Hermione closed her eyes briefly. "Look, you are not supposed to show your knickers to _boys_, they're _private_!"

"Show me."

"What?"

"Show me the book where it's written that I can't show my boyfriends my knickers."

"I can't. It's not really written down."

"Then how do you know it's true?"

"My mom told me!"

"How do you know she's right if you can't look it up in a book?"

Hermione stared at her.

"What do your knickers have on them?"

"What?"

"Show me what you have on your knickers."

"No!"

"Am I your friend?"

Hermione stared at her wide-eyed for a moment, "Yes."

"Then show me your knickers."

"Not with _boys_ watching."

"Are they your friends?"

Hermione looked at Ron and Neville, both of whom stared back at her with expressions not unlike a couple of deer caught in a car's headlights, Harri thought.

"Then show us your knickers. If you're our friend."

Slowly, as if she couldn't stop herself, Hermione reached down and lifted up her skirt. Both boys, heads moving as if yoked together, tilted their heads down to look, eyes still very wide open.

Hermione's knickers were pink with red hearts on them.

"Oooh!" Harri exclaimed, "Those are pretty!"

Hermione dropped her skirt, face as red as the hearts on her knickers, and stormed off towards the castle.

Ron and Neville just stood there staring at where Hermione had been, staring at the ground now.

Harri gave them a gentle push, "Go on, dinner should be soon and I'm hungry. Plus, I think I need to find a bathroom. I'm so full of tea I'm gonna pee like a racehorse." She had never seen a racehorse pee, but from what she heard in the hotel room, it likely applied right now.

The boys gave her another startled look and slowly stumbled their way back to the castle.

Only Harri noticed the sound of a door quietly closing behind them.

Harriet wondered if maybe the reason girls weren't supposed to show boys their knickers was that it temporarily broke them. Just to see what would happen, as she walked beside them following the now distant Hermione, she said, "Tomorrow, I'll show you my dragon knickers." Both boys tripped over nothing and almost fell down.

Wearing knickers, decided Harriet, could be fun.

Then she started to wonder what Hagrid was hiding about that package and what did he know about Snape that he didn't want Harri to know. Maybe she would have to come back for a private visit later. And show him her dragon knickers. She would see what mum and dad thought about it first.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

"Albus! I am _not_ going to let this go! You _saw_ those memories! Those people are animals and should be put down!" Professor McGonagall was in rare form, righteous anger radiated from her like heat waves from a hot stove. "The only reason I don't go and curse them myself, _right now_, is because you _said_ you had things under control! I'm waiting to hear what your plans are, otherwise Harriet is NOT going to return to that house next summer." She was storming back and forth in front of his desk, with much finger waving in his face. And this was in spite of the calming draughts they had all consumed both before and after viewing the thirteen memories given them by Harri.

Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey, the only other people in the room, agreed with Minerva McGonagall, if their expressions were anything to go by.

"Headmaster, if I may," Professor Snap smoothly interrupted the tirade, now in its second quarter of an hour. He had clearly used that time to regain his equilibrium after viewing those memories and to contemplate how best to resolve the situation to his satisfaction.

Dumbledore, meekly nodded, no twinkles in his eyes this time!

"I will visit the. . . Dursleys. . . tonight and see exactly what they have been doing. I believe I will be able to convince them to. . . constrain their behavior to a more civil level."

"As for the others involved in this. . . farce," McGonagall looked like she was about to explode into another tirade, but he held her back with a glare. "As for the others, it will take a week or two but I think I can arrange for the muggle authorities to 'discover' this child molestation ring resulting in all of them being properly arrested, tried, and convicted on their own confessions." McGonagall did not look convinced.

"It is most likely that Harri is not the only girl these _muggles_," he snarled out that last word, ". . . have abused. I will select a 'ring leader' other than Dursley and set him up to be caught with that other girl. A light Truth Serum potion, and a suggestion to implicate as many of the others as possible, except Dursley, and the problem will quickly solve itself. The result will be a safe place for Harriet to live in the summer."

"Severus! That's an excellent suggestion. Right, Minerva, Poppy?"

Professor McGonagall still looked as if she still wanted to curse the guilty parties, including one Headmaster, based on the glare she was sending his way. Finally, she reluctantly followed Madam Pomfrey's lead and nodded.

"Severus, then, please follow-through on your suggestion," said the Headmaster, "Take your time in planning. I would rather delay justice a month if it allows us to catch all the miscreants and ensures Harry a safe home life."

McGonagall stared at the Headmaster, a sour expression still on her face. "We have another problem, Albus."

The other two looked at her expectantly.

"You saw what she went through. It's probably why her magic never allowed her to change back to a boy when the spell faded away. Changing to a boy while being raped as a girl was impossible, so her magic kept her as a girl until now it won't allow any changes. And who knows how the Dursleys would have reacted if she had changed overnight. Moreover, a sudden change of gender at that young age, I shudder to guess what might have gone wrong.

"And you heard what she was called, slut, whore, bitch, and more. They told her constantly, and showed her, that her only value was in what was between her legs. She's been living that way for five years as the impressionable child she was grew up." Professor McGonagall looked sick at the thought. "She truly believes that."

"Plus, Harriet is used to trading sexual 'favours'," McGonagall shuddered, "for better treatment from others or in exchange for food or other items she wants. She will continue to do that until we can break her of that habit." She paused. "Harriet knows sex can be enjoyable, and has no reason to put off such enjoyment, nor to not use it to gain something she wants, as Professor Snape can attest. She views herself as 'damaged goods' and not 'normal.'" She stopped again. "Most girls put off experimenting, or at least limit it, because of parental expectations and fear their reputation will suffer and would make it less likely they would find an agreeable partner for marriage.

"Harriet has no such expectations, she doesn't expect to get married, nor does she even want to. Her view of marriage sounds like a cynical old prostitute, not an innocent eleven-year-old child. She feels she has nothing to lose, so why _not_ have fun now? If someone were to call her a slut or a whore, she would most likely agree. The same would be true if they said that all she was good for was sex.

"The only thing holding her back right now is the fear that we will expel her for acting on her desires. It will take her time to realize that we mean it when we say we won't. When she does, I fear what she will do.

"She might end up doing things that leave her isolated, again, and with a horrible reputation that would prevent her from ever being accepted in the Wizarding community. Imagine what _The Daily Prophet_ would do if they discovered that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, had been spelled into a girl and will bed anything, male or female?"

The other three looked sick at that prospect. The Headmaster asked, "What do you suggest, Minerva?"

She sat in her chair. "I don't know. Channel it to a select few individuals who will keep quiet? How do we select someone and know he would be someone she would approach? Wait for her to select someone and then approach him? How would we know without tracking her every movement and making her think we believe she's some kind of criminal?

"I could try to talk with her, but I can't ask her to behave like a normal witch, she doesn't know what normal _is_!

Headmaster Dumbledore finally said, "We'll have to think on it. Meanwhile, Minerva, do have a talk with Harri and see if you can convince her to be celibate for the time being."

"Poppy, being in the hospital room gives you an excellent opportunity to monitor Harry daily, especially with the potions you're giving him. If you see or hear anything that might cause problems or that we can use to head off problems, please alert us immediately."


	7. Free Falling

**Free Falling**

For Harri the weekend started with boring and became painful. She followed Madam Pomfrey's orders and came back to the hospital wing after breakfast. After a quick check, the Healer had told Harry to go ahead with her day and return that evening after dinner, that it would be better for the treatment to work overnight. Instead of lying in bed bored all day, she could sleep that night and be off to lunch the next day. Or sleeping all day and then ending up awake all night.

She hoped she could spend the day with her new friends. Hermione wanted to study, Ron wanted to explore the castle, Neville thought studying was a good idea because the classes did have a lot of homework but then again exploring the castle sounded like fun. Harriet said, "How about a compromise? We'll study in the morning, explore after lunch, and then finish studying after dinner."

Hermione insisted, "We need to study, especially you Ron. If you'd been paying attention Neville wouldn't have melted the cauldron in Potions."

"It's _my_ fault he melted the cauldron? Are you _mental_?"

"No, it's _not_ your fault, but if you had been paying closer attention to the details you would have noticed Neville was about to make a mistake."

The argument escalated from there until Hermione stormed off in one direction while Ron took off in the other. Harri looked at Neville, who was looking at the floor obviously miserable.

"Come on, Neville, let's go see Hagrid. See if we can get him to tell us some stories about our parents." That cheered the boy up some. Unfortunately, Hagrid's hut was dark with no one home, not even Fang.

They wandered aimlessly for a short while. "Hermione's right, I really should be studying," Neville finally said and headed back towards the Greenhouse Entrance. As she watched his small figure disappear through the gate in the outer wall Harri suddenly remembered, "Damn, I forgot to show them my dragon knickers." She lifted her skirt and admired the small flying dragons, upside down. Witch socks and knickers were just soo crackin' with the way the patterns moved. And when she poked at a dragon, he dodged while glaring at her.

She spent the rest of the morning outside, exploring around the castle. Lunch came, but Hermione and Ron were still feuding and sat at opposite ends of the table. Harri sat with Hermione while Neville chose to sit with Ron. Hermione spent the time when she was not eating complaining about how the rest of them were not studying hard enough. And telling Harri just what she was doing wrong in their classes. By the time lunch ended, Harri was ready to hit her. Naturally, Harri refused Hermione's offer to study together, figuring that Hermione would continue her rant about their poor study habits.

When Harriet looked for Ron and Neville, they were gone. She thought about returning to her dorm room, but decided to explore the castle on her own. She discovered many empty, dusty classrooms, and many portraits and landscapes on the wall and statues in niches. She also surprised a few older students who thought they had found a safe place for snogging, reinforcing Professors McGonagall's statement that older girls liked kissing and fondling, except with only one person.

The higher she went, the fewer students she saw, except near the Gryffindor tower.

Finally, dinnertime arrived and she managed to get her friends to sit with her. She told them all that because she hadn't had a chance to show them her dragon knickers that she would do it another day, but tomorrow she promised to show them her owl knickers. Ron stared at her. "You're just as mental as she is," he said pointing at Hermione.

"You didn't like my unicorn knickers?" she asked in a hurt tone.

Ron turned red. Finally, he said in a low voice, "I didn't say that."

Harri looked to Neville, sitting on the other side of Ron, "What about you? Did you like them?"

It was his turn for his face to shade red before admitting. "Yeah, I. . . liked them."

Hermione snorted and elbowed her, "Hush, before someone hears you! You aren't supposed to talk about stuff like that at the dinner table, it's embarrassing." She paused. "Well, maybe not for you but it is for everyone else."

Harriet sat quietly, eating, thinking about that.

As they finished eating, she said, quietly, "I'm sorry I embarrassed you."

"Don't do it again," Hermione ordered her, "You'll give people the wrong idea."

Neville blurted out, "It's okay, I don't mind. I get embarrassed all the time."

Ron's face just turned redder, almost matching his hair.

Hermione, in a blatant attempt to change the subject, asked, "Harri, what were those potions you were drinking at lunch? Are you sick?"

"Oh, no. Madam Pomfrey said I was malnourished and needed some potions to bring my health up to where it's supposed to be."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up, "Malnourished?"

"Uh huh. My Aunt and Uncle don't give me a lot to eat, they say it's real expensive to feed me."

All three were staring at her.

"But if they could see the way you shovel it in, Ron, they'd think I never ate at all. You even eat more than Dudley, my cousin, and he's twice as big as you." She frowned, thinking, "How come you're so thin?"

"My mum says I run around enough for three boys, so that's why I eat so much."

"Oh." Harri thought that made sense.

She had finished her plate off, so she stepped over the bench seat. "Speaking of Madam Pomfrey, she wants me to go to the hospital wing after dinner. She said something about 'vanishing' some bones to 'restore symmetry.'"

Ron and Neville stared at her, eyes wide. Hermione looked puzzled.

"Vanish some bones?" Neville said.

"Uh huh."

He and Ron exchanged a look before Ron added. "I-I guess we'll see you tomorrow then."

She stared at them, starting to get nervous. "Is something wrong?"

"Well," Ron said, "Vanishing bones is serious stuff. Healers only do that if the bones are really bolloxed up, like in a Quidditch crash. But you haven't had any accidents since we got to school."

"Oh. Well, they're probably left over from when Dudley used to kick me or jump on me, or Uncle Vernon picked me up." Actually, Uncle Vernon hadn't picked her up, he usually grabbed her arm and yanked her up and held her at his eye level while yelling at her, and shaking her violently. At least until she got older, then he would drag her to her bed for a "spanking," as he called it, and do things to her in her bed. She wished he had just kept yelling and shaking, and sometimes hitting, her.

Her three friends looked at her, frowning.

"Um, does it hurt?"

Ron and Neville looked at each other before Ron replied, "Well, it's not the vanishing that hurts, it's the re-growing of the vanished bone that hurts. While my brothers and I have broken bones falling and playing Quidditch at home, we've never had to have that done, so I don't know how much it hurts for sure. _The Daily Prophet_, when they mention Quidditch injuries that require bone vanishing and re-growing usually say it's painful, but they don't really say how painful."

Now Harriet _didn't_ want to go to the hospital wing, but Madam Pomfrey would probably hunt her down if she didn't. She sighed and turned to go.

"Wait, I'll go with you!" Hermione declared. At Harri's questioning look, the bushy-haired girl explained, "For moral support, you know. I wouldn't want to go to the Hospital Wing all by myself for something like that, would you? I've never even broken a bone before, and the people I've seen who have always worn those great big cast things for weeks while the arm or leg heals." Ron and Neville looked perplexed at that last statement. "And you guys are talking about growing entire bones over a single night and I've never heard of that before, so it'll be a learning experience."

Ron and Neville exchanged glances, nodded, and jumped up as well. So, it was the four of them that made an appearance at the hospital wing, to the surprise of Madam Pomfrey. She tried to chase the three extra students out when they said they were there for moral support, but Hermione said, "But it's an educational experience for us to see how Healing works in practice, and this isn't done that often so we'll probably never get a chance to see it again. Besides, it will make Harri feel better if we're here with her and I've always heard that healing works better when the patient is relaxed and if she feels better because we're here she'll be more relaxed and heal faster. And Hogwarts is an educational institute and healing should certainly be a part of that educational experience, don't you agree? Would you please let us watch so we can learn?" And that, curiously, worked.

But how did she talk so much without breathing?

Watching Harriet's right leg from the knee down to the foot change into a flesh covered slightly flat tube, followed moments later by her right arm from the shoulder to the elbow and her left arm from the elbow to the hand, left the three students looking slightly green.

Madam Pomfrey kept up a running dialog explaining how the spell she used removed the old bones and any small fragments so that there was no chance of anything remaining to cause an infection. The spell acted only on bones that had been damaged so she couldn't accidentally vanish bones that were uninjured. It was a tricky spell, and required a lot of practice. There were variations that did remove uninjured bones when they were between broken bones because trying to regrow small bones, such as in a hand or foot, around many other bones that were uninjured caused problems.

Ron reached out and gently poked Harri's arm. "Wow. That's. . . creepy. Does it hurt?"

"Stop that," Hermione ordered as she slapped his hand.

"No, but it feels really strange."

"Don't move, now, Miss Potter," said the Healer, "The less you move, the easier it will be. Now drink this down." She placed her hand behind Harriet's head and lifted her up while holding the potion bottle, which looked disturbingly like a skeleton.

It tasted terrible, but Harri forced herself to down it.

The healer told them a bit about the potion. It caused all the missing bones in the body to grow back, the entire bone all at the same time. That is, it didn't start at one end and grow towards the other, it started as a tiny strand that ran the length of the bone and grew outwards. It purposely didn't make your teeth regrow, which otherwise would have created more problems than it solved as impacted wisdom teeth that had been removed would have regrown and had to be removed again. Replacing lost teeth was a different potion.

Nothing happened for a few minutes, but then she started feeling things in her arms and leg. "Oh my god, that's a creepy feeling," she explained to the others, "it feels like my leg and arms have a thousand ants running up and down where the bones used to be!" After a minute, she added, "And now their biting me."

Madam Pomfrey came back over with another potion. "Here, Harriet, drink this. It's a sleeping potion. It'll take effect in a few minutes and then you'll sleep all night. It'll prevent you from moving around in your sleep and warping the bones as they regrow."

"Ron," because he was closest, "hold my nose for me, okay?"

"Sure."

Ron held her nose closed while the healer helped her drink the potion. Harriet had already discovered that the smell of the potions strongly influenced their taste. When she couldn't smell a potion, it tasted either sweet, bitter, or a combination of the two, but nothing like the horrid taste when she didn't hold her nose.

A few minutes later, Harri was asleep and her friends left, discussing what Madam Pomfrey had told them about the whole vanishing-and-re-growing bones procedure..

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

The next morning found her waking to Hermione's furious whispering, "Will you two stop it! You try to peek at Harri's knickers again and I'll hex both of you 'til next Wednesday! Not to mention the detentions Madam Pomfrey will give you!" And in a slightly more alarmed whisper, "And me too!"

"But Harri said. . . ."

Harriet couldn't help it, she giggled.

"You're awake!" they all three exclaimed.

Harri was lying in almost the exact same position she had been in when she went to sleep, except now she was covered by a sheet pulled up to her neck. She almost reached up to flip the sheet down, but stopped after little more than twitching her arms. Should she try to use her arms? Would it be okay?

"Minie?" She pronounced it 'my knee,' "would you pull down the sheet so we can see my arms? You know, so I can see if it's okay to move?" Hermione was on her left while Neville and Ron were on her right. All three were standing sideways to look her in the face.

"Oh, Madam Pomfrey told us when we came in after breakfast that you should be fine, now. She said the potion finished up perfectly and that you were sleeping normally. She said just to call for her before you leave so she can give you some potions to complete everything. So, we've just been waiting for you to wake up. But I've been keeping an eye on the boys so they behave and don't get us into trouble, but they keep trying to see your knickers because you promised them yesterday you'd show them your knickers. But I don't think they should peek at your knickers when you aren't awake, it's rude, and they shouldn't be looking at your knickers anyway!" The boys nodded as she said this, although Ron looked a bit put out over Hermione being bossy.

"Hunky-dory!" Harri exclaimed, quickly flipping the sheets down to her waist and holding her arms up to see if she could spot any differences.

"AAaah," cried Hermione, just as quickly grabbing the sheet and flipping it back up to Harriet's neck. "Harri! Look before you do that! You're naked!" She hissed.

Ron and Neville were staring at her, blinking.

"I am?" said Harriet, lifting the sheet up to look at herself. "I am not! I'm wearing knickers!" she protested. "See?" She bent her arms with her elbows high to grab the top edge of the sheet in her hands, and threw it down to her knees. "And they've got owls on them!" She pointed at the owls slowly gliding across the front of her knickers, moving closer to each other as the knickers narrowed at her waist so they could fly across the back and circle to the front.

"AAaah," cried Hermione again, slapping her hands, splayed, across Harri's chest. The boys, mouths open in 'o's of surprise, their eyes open almost as wide, stared at her pink knickers with the flying owls. Some of the owls were turning to stare back at the boys in disapproval. A few even turned around from flying to the back.

Harri looked down at the other girl's hands, and then used her own hands to shift them slightly. "If you're gonna grab my titties at least do it right," she said quietly.

"AAaah," cried Hermione again, yanking her hands away, "I wasn't grabbing your titties, I was hiding them — _boys!_" She protested, pointing.

The boys, Hermione's declaration drawing their attention, were now staring at Harri's chest. Harri looked at her chest as well. She was really unhappy at what she saw. When she had first started to develop breasts two years before, the men at the hotel had made a big deal about them, calling them puffies and bee stings, and they became just one more place where she would get sore from the men's attentions. She had hoped that once the men got used to seeing them the fascination would go away. No such luck. As they had become bigger, they just drew more attention, although recently she had discovered they had pleasurable aspects to them as well. She still wished she didn't have them, though.

Professor McGonagall had picked up several bras for her, but Harriet hadn't tried any of them for more than a few minutes, yet. They were uncomfortable and difficult to adjust.

Hermione looked torn between again covering up Harri's chest or attempting to cover her knickers.

Harri, looked at her knickers and noticed that more owls than usual were congregating on the front. "Hey," she said, sliding her pillow down below her shoulders to help prop her up some, "let's see if we can trap them all on the front!" She grabbed Hermione's right hand and slapped it against her hip where the knickers were narrowest, blocking the owls from flying to the back. Owls kept flying to the front from the other hip. After a moment, the number of owls arriving from the back began dropping.

Ron and Neville didn't know where to look and were looking first at her chest then at her knickers. An owl started to go back the way he had come. Neville being closer, Harri reached over and grabbed Neville's right hand. She put it against her right hip on her knickers to block that direction. He stared at his hand, as if wondering if it were really his.

The owls were circling across the front of her knickers, trying first one hip then the other, looking for a way to the back.

Hermione had switched hands, apparently deciding to try to do two things at once. Now her left hand was on Harri's knickers, with her right hand hovering several inches in front of Harri's chest. She was clearly afraid to bring her hand any closer for fear of accusations of being "grabby," and thus was failing to hide anything.

Ron appeared to be doing an owl imitation, swiveling his head back and forth between Harri's chest and her knickers with his eyes impossibly wide open.

Harri saw several owls start to head down her knickers and lunged forward to grab Ron's right hand. "Stop them, they're escaping!" she said as she slapped his fingers into her crotch.

"That is soo crackin'!" Harri declared, propping herself up on her left elbow, watching the owls flying in several circles trying to avoid collisions as they sought a way to the back. A few owls had given up and were landing on the edge-seams of her knickers, roosting.

Hermione and Ron both looked as if they were about to have strokes. Ron was turning redder and redder staring at his right hand, clearly petrified of moving it in any direction for fear of misunderstandings and the consequences. Hermione was almost as red as Ron and staring at his hand as well, except she was drawing in a breath and looked as if she was going to explode at any moment. She hadn't noticed her right hand was pressing against Harri's left breast.

That was when Madam Pomfrey came around the short privacy curtains, saying, "What _is_ all the commotion here? You promised to be quiet."

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Harriet was sitting on the bed, dressed, as a perplexed Madam Pomfrey stared at her. Harri's three friends were sitting two beds over with their backs to her, and hers to them, waiting to hear what Madam Pomfrey was going to do when she finished with Harri. Hermione was already lecturing the boys in a loud whisper. Madam Pomfrey had set up a _muffliato_ around Harriet and herself.

Harri, in a fit of pique at Madam Pomfrey for stopping their harmless game, had furtively canceled it while putting on her wand holster — popped out the wand, muttered a quick _finite incantatem,_ and put it back under the pretext of making sure the wand was okay. If Madam Pomfrey was going to yell at her, Harriet wanted witnesses.

"Harriet, first of all you and your friends are not in trouble," she started. "But there are some things you need to know about personal space and appropriate and inappropriate touching."

Harri looked up, a scowl crossing her face. "I know all about inappropriate touching," she said loudly. "I was showing them my new knickers. I've never _had_ knickers before, much less knickers where the animals move. I wanted to show them."

Ron, Neville, and Hermione were suddenly quiet and looking out the window beside them.

Madam Pomfrey stared at her as Harri stared back defiantly.

"Harriet, in Wizard and Witch society there are certain ways young wizards and witches are supposed to interact. Some things are okay to do and others are not. Letting young wizards grope your privates is one of the things a witch is not supposed to do."

"They _weren't_ groping _my_ privates, we were trapping my knickers' _owls_."

Madam Pomfrey stared at her and then smiled weakly, "Yes, you were, but, and this is the important part, dear, but you aren't supposed to let a young wizard touch you there for any reason at all. At least not until you are married."

"What about wizard doctors. . . uh, Healers?"

"Healers, in the performance of their duties, might have to touch your privates, but only when it's part of their duties."

"What about my wizard friends?"

"You shouldn't even let a boyfriend do something like that. You're supposed to wait until you're married."

"But I heard lots of witches do things like that when snogging with their wizard friends." She didn't mention the witches snogging with their boyfriends she had seen earlier that day. One couple had been a good ways beyond merely touching privates.

Madam Pomfrey sighed, "Yes, they do, but they shouldn't."

"Why?"

"Because you aren't supposed to do that sort of thing before you're married."

"Then why do they do it?"

"Because they think they are in love. Because they think that if they do that, the wizard they're with will like them more. Because they think that it gives them a hold over the wizard. Some of them think that the wizard they're with will marry them if they do that. Almost always the witches are wrong. Rarely do wizards marry the witches they date at Hogwarts, but every witch thinks her situation is the exception." The healer sighed. "It's complicated, Harriet."

"But if you don't want to get married, why should it matter?"

Madam Pomfrey sighed again, and stood silent for a long time. "Because if you do those sorts of things, word will get out and people will think less of you. They'll call you names."

"I've done those sorts of things for a long time, and lots more," she said flatly, "Do you or the other teachers think less of me for that? Or call me names like slut, whore, cum sponge, slag, bitch, scrubber, slapper, or cunt, or. . . or sperm bank behind my back?" Harri stared up at her.

"No! Of course not." The woman looked horrified at the terms Harri had spouted.

"But if others find out they might?"

"Sadly, yes."

"So I won't tell them."

"Look, Harriet." Madam Pomfrey paused, thinking, "Harriet, I guess what I'm saying is that some of things that you think are okay to do are not okay to do."

"You mean like Hermione saying I shouldn't show boys my knickers?"

"Yes!"

"But I _want_ to share things with my friends. They're the only friends I _have_. Sharing things with friends is what friends are all about. If I can't share things with them, then they aren't my friends, are they?"

The healer stood quietly for a minute, staring at Harriet's three friends. Harri glanced over her shoulder. Hermione was pointing to something out the window.

"Harriet, it's okay to share with your friends, just be. . . careful," she finally said. "Listen to Hermione when she says not to do something that she thinks is inappropriate."

Harriet smiled. "Hermione thinks being late to class and not studying is inappropriate."

Madam Pomfrey's lips twitched as if she were suppressing a smile. "About your body, I mean. Like your knickers, for example. If you want to show your knickers to Ron and Neville, well you shouldn't, but," she sighed, "but if you, do it's okay. But if you get the urge to show them to someone else, don't do it. Ask Miss Granger first. If she thinks it's a good idea, then okay, it's probably the all right to do it. Try to keep these sorts of things to only your best friends."

"So, as long as it's with my _friends_ it's okay?"

"As long as those friends are Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Longbottom, only."

"Hagrid is my friend, too."

The healer stared at her, frowning. "Did you show Hagrid your knickers?"

Harri nodded.

"When?"

"Friday afternoon. We all went there for tea at three and I showed him that my socks and knickers had matching unicorns on them just before we left."

The healer sighed, rubbing her forehead in exasperation. Finally, giving in to a partial defeat, she said, "Okay, with your friends, including Hagrid, it's okay. Just keep it quiet so no one else discovers what you're doing. If you don't, it will eventually get you _and_ them into trouble with the other students and their parents."

She started to turn away, but then turned back, "However, Harriet, if anyone who isn't your friend tries to get you to do something like that or touches you inappropriately, tell one of us as soon as possible. Myself, Professor McGonagall, the Headmaster, or Professor Snape. Got that?"

Harri nodded and watched as the healer flicked her wand to dismiss the already removed _muffliato_, and then walked over to her friends. The girl was pretty sure they had heard everything. She probably shouldn't have canceled the spell, but she wanted her friends to be able to back her up. Now they knew some things about her that she hadn't intended for them to find out. But, they were her friends.

Lost in thought she didn't listen to what Madam Pomfrey said but she did hear some things: "bad experiences," "doesn't understand boundaries," "support her," and finally, louder than everything else, "if I hear you spreading any rumors about what she does or has done, you'll spend the rest of your life here at Hogwarts in detention!"

Harri had missed breakfast, so they decided to head for the Great Hall. They would be early for lunch, but that was okay, they could spend the time talking or studying.

They were passing an empty classroom when Hermione grabbed Harri's arm and dragged her into it, the boys following, puzzled. She closed the door.

"Harri, you did that on purpose, didn't you? Canceling the _muffliato_ Madam Pomfrey cast. I heard her casting it and then a moment later we could hear you clearly. Then, when she was finished talking with you, I saw her go through the motions of canceling the spell so she didn't know it was already down. And she's a grownup, she wouldn't make a mistake with a spell she uses every day. You wanted us to hear that stuff, didn't you?"

Harri looked at her friend, "Well, I was worried she was going to yell at me and I wanted witnesses. And what you heard, well, I didn't know she was going to say all that stuff, but it's okay that you heard. You're my friends."

The other three looked at her for a few moments before Ron spoke up, "Did someone really call you all those names?" Hermione glared at him. Harri nodded sadly.

"Blimey," Ron continued, "I don't even know what half of them meant but they sounded really awful."

"Yes," Harri said quietly. "I got called those a lot."

The four stood in silence. Finally, Neville said, "Get out your wands."

Puzzled the other three complied.

"Put the tips together."

They stood in a square and did so.

"Now say this," he cleared his throat. "I swear I will be unable to tell anyone not here what Harri says or does that she or I would consider personal unless she gives me her permission to do so. So mote it be."

Hermione and Ron looked at each other, and then repeated what Neville had said. Harri watched, fascinated, as a glow appeared at the end of their wands that then flowed down their wands to their hands and then to their arms.

"There," he said. "A wizard's oath that no one will ever learn from us anything you tell us about yourself or that you might do that you wouldn't want anyone else to know about because it was personal. And this way no one will ever be able to get us to accidentally reveal a secret."

"And if anyone tries to, we'll tell the Headmaster, Professor McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey, or Professor Snape." Hermione added.

They all nodded in agreement.

Harri didn't know what to say, but her eyes were watering heavily. "Thanks," she managed to choke out. They really were her friends.

Lost in their thoughts, they headed to the Great Hall for lunch. The rest of the day Neville and Rom played chess in the common room while Hermione and Harri read ahead for the classes for the coming week.

Harri had an interesting conversation with her parents that night. Mum said "You should listen to Hermione on things like that, love." Dad said to "Fuck 'em, do what you want. If they're your friends, they'll understand. As long as you're not hurting them or any of their friends, you'll be okay."

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Monday morning there was a notice on the Gryffindor bulletin board that First Years' flying lessons would begin on Thursday. . . with the Slytherins.

Harri hadn't had much interaction with the Slytherins, except for that ponce Draco occasionally insulting her in the halls, and pretending that he had mistaken her for the "real" Harry Potter and how disappointed he was. She had noticed Pansy Parkinson being a bit of twit in the Potions lesson to the Gryffindors, so maybe _she_ would be a nuisance. But Harri bet Draco would be the main problem, for some reason he had become fixated on Ron and Neville, taunting them at every opportunity. He was really starting to get on her nerves.

Meanwhile, the rest of Monday and Tuesday the students with wizarding parents spent their time bragging about their experiences with flying. Ron told them all about learning from his brothers and the time they spent every summer playing half-pitch Quidditch games at home, and the time he had missed hitting a hang-gliding muggle. Harri was surprised to hear that Neville was as inexperienced as she and Hermione, his gran had absolutely forbidden the use of a broom at his home. Considering how clumsy Neville seemed to be, Harri thought that maybe that had been a good thing. Draco and most of the Slytherin House made sure everyone else knew what masters they were of flying. Draco's stories somehow always ended with his narrowly escaping a muggle helicopter.

"Someone ought to tell whoever it is that punishes wizards for violating the Magic Secrecy Act that Draco is bragging about being seen by a muggle helicopter and didn't report it," Harri groused while they were in the library looking up books on broom flying. Hermione had found a book on Quidditch that focused on flying techniques and spent as much time lecturing them on what she had read as she did reading it. Harri found it somewhat interesting, but Neville hung on her words as if they meant life itself.

Hermione, Ron, and Neville all stared at her for a few moments. "Well, it would serve him right!" Harri added. Ron got a funny look at that. Later, just after DADA, he excused himself for a trip to the bathroom, saying he would meet them in the library later.

Wednesday, just after lunch, four Aurors came to the school and pulled Draco out of his DADA class for an interview. He returned later very flustered and refused to say anything about what the Aurors wanted. He also stopped bragging about his flying experience.

Breakfast Thursday was interesting for two reasons. Instead of the regular package of sweets Draco received every day from his mother, which he always used as an excuse to point out that Neville, Ron, Hermione, and Harri never got any mail, a simple letter was dropped into the juice puddle created by his owl's wing knocking over the cup as he landed. For some reason Ron had been very interested in watching the swarm of owls this morning, which he usually ignored, and seemed to be looking over his shoulder at one particular Slytherin.

Draco turned as white as Professor Snape on reading the letter. Ron nearly burst trying not to laugh, leaving the other three wondering what he knew that they did not. "His dad is probably furious that Draco's bragging about his helicopter incident prompted a visit to his house from the Aurors!" explained Ron is a whisper, snickering.

"You didn't!" Hermione said, aghast.

"Didn't what?" Ron replied, trying for an innocent wide-eyed look and failing as he broke into a wide smile instead.

Fred and George, just a few seats down from them, had seen Ron's interest in Draco's mail, and Ron's wide smile at Draco's reaction.

They looked at each other, then stood and came over to Harri's group. They leaned over, one on each side of Ron. "Did our little Ronniekins. . ." started Fred.

". . . just prank a Malfoy?" finished the other.

Ron tried to look mad about being called 'Ronniekins' but couldn't stop his grin.

"Uh, somehow the Aurors found out he was bragging about running into a muggle helicopter and paid a visit to his dad to see if it was true."

They turned and looked at Draco, who was now staring at them, furious. Clearly he had figured out that the Weasleys were to blame for his predicament, he was just wrong about which Weasley.

Fred and George turned to Harri. "You," they declared, "are a bad influence on our brother!"

They leaned towards her. George, in a stage whisper, said, "We are so proud!"

"Keep up the good, er, bad work!" added Fred.

"If you need any help. . ." George looked at his brother.

". . . feel free to ask us." Fred looked at Harriet. They gave them both a mock salute and returned to their seats.

"Don't you _dare!_" ordered Hermione, "If you start trying to pull pranks you _will_ get caught and you'll just get us all in trouble and I, for one, have no desire to waste my time in a detention when I could be studying!"

Ron stared at her, "You're _mental_, you know that don't you? _Mental_."

About that moment, an owl landed in front of Neville with a package from home: a Remembrall. It was supposed to help you remember if you forgot to do something important, Neville told her and Hermione, filling with red smoke as he held it. Harri thought it rather useless, a cruel taunting: "Nyah, nyah, I know you forgot something important, but I'm not gonna tell you what it is! Nyah, nyah." All it lacked were sound-effects and an image of someone sticking their tongue out at you. It was completely useless, as Neville proved with his next statement, "I wonder what I forgot?"

Draco's letter hadn't taught him any manners, it appeared. He had come over to the Gryffindor table to confront the twins, but Neville's owl had drawn him to a much easier target, as he snatched up the Remembrall. Fortunately, Professor McGonagall had noticed the byplay and the Slytherin's uncharacteristic stalking over to the Gryffindor table. She was beside them in an instant. "What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Harri couldn't help but add, "Maybe he wanted to see if he's forgotten anything important, Neville."

"Oh," Neville said, looking at the clear ball, "Looks like you're doing good, Malfoy, nothing important to remember."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table. "Just looking," he said, and he slunk away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

Three-thirty finally arrived as Harri, and the rest of the Gryffindors, headed down the front steps and out to the side lawn facing the Forbidden Forest, whose tree tops swayed in the distance. The Slytherins were already in place beside the twenty brooms laid out on the ground. The twins had claimed the brooms were old and worn, with chronic problems.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry looked down at her broom, old and worn it certainly was, with some of the twigs bent and sticking out at odd angles. Following Madam Hooch's instructions, and remembering what Solicitor Tonks had said about intent being everything in magic, Harri said "UP" in a loud clear voice. Her broom slapped into her hand immediately, as did Ron's and a couple of other students, mostly from the Wizarding families. Hermione's wiggled a bit, Neville's just laid there. "Minie, Nev, take a deep breath, exhale, and say it like you mean it, like you're ordering a puppy to stop." she whispered. On the second try both managed to get their brooms in their hands, although Neville's moved slowly as if it weren't sure it was going to go all the way.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms and how to hold them properly. Harri and her friends took great delight in watching their professor correct Draco's grip and positioning, telling him he had it all wrong despite his protests.

Then came their first attempt at flying for most of the students. Unfortunately, Neville, whether from nervousness or fright, kicked off before Madam Hooch could signal them. He shot up higher and higher, easily passing thirty feet in only a few moments, before sliding sideways and losing his grip. For a moment, Harri stared in stunned disbelief as daylight clearly appeared between Neville and his broom, the gap growing larger by the second. She didn't think. Confidence drove her to shoot forward on her broom trying to catch him. She slammed into him just a few feet above the ground. They both fell heavily to the grass and rolled across the lawn. Lying on her back staring up at the sky she saw Neville's broom drifting higher and off towards the forbidden forest. She pushed herself up and looked over at Neville. He was sitting up and holding his hand.

Madam Hooch came hurrying up, her face as white as Neville's.

"I'm fine, Professor," Harri said, "but Nev," she waved her hand in his direction.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy — it's all right, up you get."

She looked back at Harri again.

"Honest, Professor, I'm fine," she stood up easily and wiggled her hands to show everything was okay. The woman nodded and turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the Hospital Wing! You leave those brooms where they are, stay on the ground or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Harri picked up her broom and headed back to the other students, all of whom were alternately staring at her and at Professor Hooch and Neville as they entered the castle.

"Harri, you could have killed you both doing that!" declared Hermione, her broom now lying on the grass. "What were you thinking?"

"Nope. Every seen two football players crash? Notice how they rarely break any bones? People are softer than the ground. By crashing into Nev I changed him from falling to the ground into rolling across it and took some of his downward speed to myself. If I hadn't he would've been hurt much worse. I'm gonna have a few bruises and so will he, but he didn't die."

"But that was so reckless!"

"Should I have done nothing and let him possibly die? No. You're my friends, I'll do my best to help you no matter what."

Hermione stared at her, speechless. "You would?" she whispered.

"Of course!"

"Cor, that was something to see," said Ron. "You took off after him like nothing I've seen before. How'd you know where to go? I mean, if you had gone higher you would have missed him and the same for lower."

Harri frowned, puzzled. "I don't know. I just knew where I had to be to have him hit me instead of the ground."

Meanwhile the Slytherins had been making fun of Neville's accident, especially Malfoy.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Parvati Patil finally snapped out.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

Parvati opened her mouth for a comeback, but Malfoy interrupted her.

"Look!" Malfoy said, running to where Neville had rolled across the lawn with Harri. He bent and picked up something out of the grass. He walked back to the Slytherin group, admiring his find. "It's Longbottom's Remembrall." He held the clear sphere between two fingers for them to see.

"Give it here, Malfoy," Harri said quietly, holding out her hand. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find. . . how about . . . up a tree?" Suiting action to words, he picked up his broom and took off.

Harri saw Draco hadn't been lying and he could fly very well.

Hovering level with the topmost branches of an ancient oak by the castle wall he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

"Oh, for God's sake," Harri said, rolling her eyes in exasperation, "what a bell-end." She lifted her wand, "_Accio Neville's Remembrall_."

Draco was again holding the Remembrall, now red with smoke, between his fingers so they clearly could see it and was completely unprepared for the small thing to suddenly jerk from his grip and shoot over to Harri.

"What the. . . !" Scowling, he slowly followed the device back to the group. He had no sooner touched his feet to the ground than he heard, "Mr. Malfoy," in a loud frigid tone.

Madam Hooch was stalking across the lawn towards them. "What did I tell you about not flying while I was gone? You are dismissed from this and all future flying classes. One hundred points from Slytherin, and a month of detentions with Mr. Filch when you get back from your suspension. Your father will pick you up after dinner."

Draco went white as a clean sheet, his face suddenly reflecting his recognition that he was in serious trouble.

"Go, now!" she ordered.

Draco turned and headed back to the castle.

The severe penalty dealt to the Slytherin left the rest of the class shaken. The Professor had said, though, that if anyone was caught flying they would be sent from Hogwarts. Harri supposed Draco ought to feel lucky she had meant a suspension instead of outright expelled.

"Mr. Longbottom will be rejoining us shortly." Madam Hooch addressed the remaining students. She paused and looked at them. "Well, get back to your brooms and we'll try this one more time." They spent the next few minutes mastering going up and down, and flying in a small circuit around the lawn before she released the more skilled riders to roam while concentrating on the neophytes like Hermione who were struggling.

Harri quickly joined Ron and several others in a game of aerial tag for a few minutes before deciding to just. . . fly. She noticed that Neville had returned and the professor was giving him close attention.

It was a wonderful feeling, the wind blowing in her hair, as she rose up high and then plunged low, racing at full speed towards the forest, and then turning on a dime. . . knut. . . to race back. She shot straight up until she passed the highest roof, then nosed over backwards and let herself free-fall towards the ground. She pulled out of the dive to skim along inches above the turf and then shot back up to do it all over again. She decided to fly around Hogwarts at full speed before once more shooting straight up and finishing with a power dive that left her breathless and laughing after she pulled out of it and coasted to a halt beside Hermione. "God," she said, "if I were a bird I'd never land!"

Hermione was sitting on her broom just a few inches off the lawn, staring at her. "How do you do that? I mean, I read all the books on flying and you. . . you just make it look easy and I can barely get my broom to go up and down!"

"Confidence, Minie, confidence. I just know what I can do and I do it! Relax and try it, Minie, don't think about flying, just. . . FLY! If you're worried about falling off the broom, just use a simple sticking charm!"

Harri took off, laughing, towards the castle wall at breakneck speed. She pulled up on her broom in time so that her robe almost brushed the stone walls as she sped straight up before abruptly stopping and hovering, laughing in exhilaration. Then she had a thought. She dug around in one of her robe pockets, retrieving a galleon. She took it and threw it as hard as she could, and watched as the galleon arced gracefully across the sky. Then she took off after it as fast as she could, tracing its curve and diving towards the ground as it fell. She caught it only a few feet from the ground, pulling up and shooting across the lawn , her knees and toes brushing the grass. She shot straight up, stopped, and threw it again, this time throwing it high over Hermione. Then she took after it again, catching it before it could hit the ground beside Minie, and then curving back to her.

She spun her broom in place like a top, at least a dozen times, laughing delightedly, as Minie stared at her, clearly wondering if Harri had gone completely nutters. She never noticed the rest of the class staring at her, as well. Then Harri shot straight up again. She was about to throw the galleon once more when she saw a professor come running out the front doors, looking up at Harri as she raced towards Minie. Sighing, Harri did another power dive to reach Hermione and was standing, with her broom in hand, as Professor McGonagall came to a halt in front of them.

The woman stared at Harri for a few moments, then said, "Come with me." She turned and set off back to the castle. Harri looked at Minie, who looked back, equally puzzled. Shrugging, Harri ran to catch up with the professor. Harri knew she couldn't be in trouble as Madam Hooch had said nothing against doing what she had been doing. The professor who didn't say a word as she wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Harri trotting behind. Finally, she stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

Wood turned out to be a burly fifth-year boy. He looked at Harri, confused. Harri shrugged, she didn't know what was going on either.

Professor McGonagall said, "This way," and headed down the corridor. Wood looked curiously at Harriet as they walked.

"Here." Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was writing rude words on the blackboard. "Out, Peeves!" she barked. Professor McGonagall slammed the door after him as he flew out.

"Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood — I've found you a Seeker."

Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight.

"Are you serious, Professor?"

"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The girl's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"

Harri nodded silently.

"She caught that thing in her hand after a hundred-foot dive, twice!" Professor McGonagall told Wood.

Harri opened her hand to reveal the galleon she had been throwing.

"Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."

Wood was hyperventilating, looking as though all his dreams had come true at once.

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" he asked excitedly.

"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.

"She's the perfect build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, walking around Harri and staring at her. "Small. . . light. . . speedy. . . we'll have to get her a decent broom, Professor — a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Professor Snape in the face for weeks. . . .

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

_**Author's Note: **I find the whole Quidditch theme in the Harry Potter books to be unbelievable. Not the game itself, but the games they play. In a small town where there are only a few teams, they do not play just one game against each team for a total of six games all year — that's not even one game a month! That's ludicrous. They should have several matchups with each opponent. Just look at the historical record of team play in the 1800's, where they played the games between the different years at a college — they featured rematches. A better solution would be for each team to play two matches with each opponent with an optional third match in the case of there being a one-one tie (remember, in football it's not the total number of points in a game that gets the championship, but the number of games won), meaning there would be a minimum of twelve and a maximum of eighteen games total for the year. This would work out to about a game every two weeks. Leaving out the January and February as having too terrible weather, that would work out to a game every week in November and early December followed by weekly games in the spring.  
_


	8. Secrets

**Secrets**

"Miss Potter," Professor McGonagall turned to the witch after the boy left to return to class, "Now that I have you, there are a few things we need to discuss." She waved her wand casually and cast a _muffliato_ spell on the room. A second wave and the desk behind her became an armchair as did the chair beside Harri. "Please sit."

Harri used the cover of looking at the chair and sitting to hide her brief look of panic before she settled into Consequences.

"First, I had a discussion with Healer Pomfrey." The professor eyed her cautiously. "I realize your upbringing left a lot to be desired, but from our point of view as professors there are certain things we need you to understand and do for us." She stopped and stared levelly at the little witch.

Realizing she was waiting for an acknowledgement, Harri nodded.

"In the Muggle World you had no control over what you did or what was done to you. You had to do what your guardians told you to do, even though it was wrong for them to make you do those things.

"The Wizarding World is somewhat similar in that as long as you attend Hogwarts we, your professors, are considered your guardians, with the Headmaster considered your actual guardian in control. What that means is that we are responsible for you while you are here. In essence, we act as your 'local' parents.

"You have developed some strong friendships already and that is a good thing. However, your upbringing has introduced you to things that children your age should not really know, primarily sex." The professor watched Harri's reactions.

"You and I both understand that sex with someone can be a pleasurable experience, and there's nothing wrong with that. Unfortunately, in your case, it has always been in a situation where you had no choice, where sometimes they used violence to force you to comply. This has coloured your opinion of sex. You have learned to use it as a tool to get better treatment, to get more food, to make your life easier. We merely have to look at your attempt to bribe Professor Snape for an example. And if you derive pleasure from the sex, you consider that as merely a bonus. For you, in your experience, sex is merely a tool to use in trades."

Harri said nothing and just blinked. It was a fair assessment. That was how she viewed sex — it was a tool. A fun messy tool, sometimes, but still just a tool.

"You can't do that here. There are over a thousand students here, most of whom know nothing about sex. And, the ones who do know about it have only a fraction of your. . . regrettable experience. If you begin indiscriminate sexual relations with other students, it will come back to hurt you later. These are children and in most cases incapable of keeping any secrets. If you doubt me, just listen to the gossips in your dorm when they start talking about boyfriends and who has one. Or better, ask Ron or Neville to tell you what the older wizards say about witches that they think are 'easy' and which witches have bad reputations and why. And notice how many wizards brag about what they did with a witch, and how angry those witches get when they discover their boyfriend told his friends about what the two of them did."

Harri stared back at her.

The professor sighed. "What I'm saying is, don't use sex or the promise of sex with someone to win their support, assistance, or friendship. That will fail to help you and in fact will come back to _harm_ you in the future. Your friends are your friends because they like _you_, not because you give them sexual gratification. You make them laugh, help them with homework, share interests, things like that are the foundations on which you build a friendship, not sex. In fact, it has been my experience to see that sex has destroyed more friendships than it has ever created.

"What you have not had the chance to discover is that sex should be with someone you trust and love. You share sex with them, you do not give it or take it. It is something that you both value because of the _person_ you are with. Save sex to share with someone who is special to you. Don't use it as something you trade to get what you want."

They stared at each other for a minute.

"I. . . understand you like the pleasure of sex, most everyone does. What I'm asking is that you restrict any such inclinations as much as possible."

"Madam Pomfrey," said Harri, "told me I could show my friends my knickers, and I have. And they are still my friends."

The woman closed her eyes for a moment. "Yes, I know she did. But showing off your knickers is not the same thing as having sex with someone. That is a far more intimate a matter for most people. And for someone who is just learning about sex and the feelings it brings up, as most of the students in Hogwarts are, they will consider any such activities as being far more important that you do.

"If you were to have sex with Mr. Weasley or Mr. Longbottom they would expect you to act in a way that would conform to their ideals of how a wizard and a witch interact. They would expect you to act with them as they see other couples here at Hogwarts act. They would consider you 'their' girlfriend, and seeing you act outside those expectations would deeply hurt them. They would not understand if you were to have sex with other wizards. They would not understand sex as a recreational activity, as something to do just to feel better. Neither would they understand using the trade of sexual favors to get something else. To them sex will be something personal, something you share with only one person. You could even lose them as a friend as they would feel you had betrayed them or lied to them when that was not your intention at all. Do you understand what I mean?"

Harri frowned. "No, not really. Several couples came to the hotel and they didn't have any issues with either or both having sex with me."

Professor McGonagall closed her eyes and sighed unhappily, "All I can do is ask you to not do it. To trust me when I tell you that doing it with any of the students will only harm you and could destroy your friendships."

"What about teachers?"

The woman gave the orphan a hard look. "The standing policy has always been that students and professors do not interact in that way. A teacher found to have done something like that with a student would be fired."

"Is Hagrid a teacher?"

The professor frowned. "While Hagrid isn't a direct member of the teaching staff, he is. . . ." She paused, then her eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Wait, don't tell me. . . ."

Harri's expression was blank. She didn't realize until later that she should have looked puzzled, as if she didn't know what the professor was implying. That she considered Hagrid as merely a friend.

"You _didn't_!"

Harri's expression remained unchanged.

"You _did_." She sighed in resignation.

"Did what?" Harri tried to salvage the situation by acting dumb.

"Sex. Oh, _Merlin_. When?"

"When what?"

"When did you visit Hagrid?"

"The only time I visited Hagrid was when I had tea with him last Friday, with Ron, Nev, and Hermione."

"No, _when did you have sex with Hagrid_?"

Damn. Harri was trapped, she realized. She couldn't lie. The professor would go straight to Hagrid, and he couldn't tell a lie to save his soul, much less his job.

So, she explained about discovering that she had a vault in Gringotts and how happy that had made her, and what she had done.

Professor McGonagall had her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands by the time Harri finished. She was whispering, "Oh, _Merlin_. Oh, _Merlin_."

"You're not going to fire him, are you?" Harris asked tentatively. "It wasn't his fault, by the time he realized I was really serious, well, it was way too late for him to stop."

The professor sat thinking. The cauldron had melted, the spell had been cast.

"No. But you must keep this a secret if you want him to keep his job. And you cannot ever tell anyone that you told me this, for the same reason."

Professor McGonagall sat up. As she later explained to the Headmaster, she knew Harri would not be able to resist the pleasurable lure of sex. If she simply forbade the activity, the witch would ignore her and do what she wanted. Maybe not this week or this month, but she would succumb and find another partner. And that would undermine the professors' authority. Never give an order that you know will be disobeyed. Not only is it a waste of everyone's time, but it undermines your authority as you teach your underlings to disobey you.

At least now she knew of one outlet. Hagrid was intensely loyal to Hogwarts and the Headmaster. Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise. As long as Harri's friends could keep the secret, because she knew they would find out sooner or later.

"Professor? Can't we ask Hagrid for a vow to keep the secret? That way neither of us could reveal it by accident."

"Vow? Who told you about those?"

"Sunday, after we left the Hospital Wing, we, that is, Ron, Neville, and Hermione made a vow with their wands to never reveal any of my secrets. It was Neville's idea. He said that way they couldn't accidentally tell one of my secrets to someone else. He said they wouldn't even be able to think about it."

McGonagall was taken aback at this revelation. That her friends would think to use such a thing was highly unusual. They must have taken Madam Pomfrey's talk to heart. And it solved so many of their problems by stopping any rumors at the very source. The professor began to think that maybe they _could_ pull this off and protect the little witch.

"Miss Potter, have you started having monthlies, yet?"

Harri knew all about that, TFS and two others at Grunnings Drills had planned their visits for when their wives were "discomfited." She had been dreading that event for herself based on the many stories she had heard about how awful it was.

And that began a whole new conversation, culminating in the promise of a book on pregnancy and contraception spells.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x – X

Harri and her friends were looking for a secluded location. It was late Thursday evening and they had stopped in a corridor on the seventh floor. So far this week, Harri had managed to show them her unicorn, owl, chimaera, centaur, and pixie knickers. Unfortunately, twice someone had come around a corner or opened the classroom door at precisely the wrong, or right, moment, and it was only by luck the unsuspecting student hadn't also seen Harri starting, or just finishing, to show her knickers.

Minie had absolutely vetoed them going into the boys dorm and closing the curtains on Ron or Neville's bed. And the boys couldn't even go into the girls' dorms at all, the stair turned into a slide and sent the caroming back to the floor.

So, even though the corridor appeared "safe" at the moment, someone was bound to come around a corner and see them the minute Harri tried to show off her next moving-creature knickers. Minie had tried to convince Harri that showing them her matching socks was good enough, or better yet, just showing them the knickers when she wasn't wearing them. Harri disagreed because the creatures were smaller on the socks and not as detailed, and when she wasn't wearing the knickers, the creatures didn't move. And it was so much fun to watch the boys' eyes glaze over when she lifted or took off her skirt.

Hermione had tried to convince Harri that she shouldn't show them at all. That had failed when Harri simply said, "But Madam Pomfrey said it was alright for me to show you, you heard her."

Besides, Hermione didn't have matching socks for her knickers.

Hermione still objected and it took a bit cajoling, but she, too, had shown them her knickers, but only two times. While hers didn't move, the boys' reactions were always entertaining. And, Harri suspected, Minie was secretly pleased to be the center of attention, even if she was embarrassed.

Behind them was an odd painting of a wizard dodging trolls in ballerina costumes swinging clubs as they watched Neville pace back and forth in the hall.

"We need a place that only we, Harri's friends, can find. Someplace no one will find by accident. And it has to be comfortable. A broom closet simply isn't going to work," said Neville. "Maybe we can put a charm on the door so that only we can enter. But it needs to be convenient, too. We don't want to walk halfway to the Hogsmeade, especially if it starts raining! An empty classroom won't work, it's too easy for someone to see us go in and follow us. Or wonder why we went in and sealed the room if we were only studying. As we discovered." He sighed.

Hermione gasped while Ron gaped. "Um, Neville?" Harri said, "There's a door behind you."

The room wasn't as large as a classroom, but it was definitely bigger than a broom closet. It was about fifteen feet by fifteen feet, with a long couch bent to fit in the back right-wall corner. In the middle of the room was a small platform with steps, surrounded by three chairs. They wandered in. "Wow," said Minie, "If there were a table or two in here it would be the perfect study room for us, not too big and not too small."

"Was that there when we walked in?" asked Ron, pointing to a writing table against the wall to their left. The table was wide enough for all four of them to sit comfortably with their supplies and books beside them.

"I'd don't know," answered Neville, "but those tables weren't." In front of the couch were two short tables for study materials.

Hermione stood quietly for a moment turning around in a circle before saying, "What we need in this room is a bookcase with all the reference materials we need for our classes." Then she gasped as a long bookcase appeared, filling the space between the writing table and the back wall.

"Guys," she said, "This is a magic room that gives us what we want!"

They stared at her.

"Don't you get it? We wanted a room for us, one appears. We want tables, they appear!"

"Blimey!" said Ron. "I want a flying broom!"

A broom appeared leaning against the writing table. Ron eagerly grabbed it and hopped on. "Blimey, it works!" said Ron as he drifted around the room.

"And when the door closes, no one else can enter?" asked Harri.

Neville said, "I don't know, but look!" pointing at the blank wall where the door used to be.

They stared.

"Are we trapped?" Hermione looked scared.

"Only one way to find out," Ron said shakily as he walked to where the door was. When he was only a step away, the door suddenly appeared. Ron opened it and looked out into the corridor.

"Ron, go outside, close the door, and walk down the corridor a little distance, see what happens," Hermione ordered.

The door remained for a few seconds then again turned to a blank wall. Hermione walked to the wall and the door reappeared just as it had for Ron. She opened it, looked for Ron, and called out to him, he said something and she replied. Then she closed the door and stepped back. The door disappeared for a moment, then reappeared and Ron walked back in.

"Brill!" exclaimed Minie, She turned to face Harri and Neville. "The door only appears when someone is near it! When Ron was outside the room and away from the door, he couldn't see it when we couldn't. When we could see the door, so could he."

"Our own private clubroom!" said Harri, jumping up and down.

"This is smashing!" Ron added.

Neville said, "I wonder if anyone but us can see it?"

"We'd have to get someone who _wasn't_ a friend of Harri's to walk by and see if the door appeared. How would we do that without revealing we have a secret?" Minie asked.

"Or we could ask someone to meet one of us here and simply wait in the room to see if the door appears when they approach," Neville suggested.

"Who do we know well enough that they would actually come up here? And how would we know if they did, we'd be in the room where we couldn't see them."

Harri looked at Ron, "Your brothers might."

"NO. Absolutely not! Besides, they'd think I was trying to prank them and they wouldn't show."

Neville walked over to the wall, but not to where the door was. "It would be really helpful if we could see _through_ this wall while anyone on the other side could not see in."

Nothing happened for a moment, but then, gradually, a circular hole formed that grew until it was a floor-to-ceiling transparent wall. Excited, Neville moved over to the middle of the wall where the door had been. The door appeared as he approached. He stepped out and closed the door. They watched him as he ran his fingers up and down the wall, walking slowly away from the door until it disappeared, leaving the entire wall as clear as glass for them.

He grinned at them through the wall, then put his thumbs in his ears and waggled his fingers at them. He stuck out his tongue and crossed his eyes.

"Hey!" Ron walked over and started making faces back at him, then pretended he was going to hit him. Neville gave no signs of noticing anything Ron did.

Neville turned and walked back to the door, which reappeared and allowed him back in. "Couldn't see a thing," he said, wonderingly. "It looks as solid as the any wall in the castle."

They looked around the room again. Hermione was already looking at the books while Rom was looking at the broomstick with a speculative expression. Harri watched Neville for a while as he studied the wall, then she wandered over to Minie.

"Some of these books are the exact same ones we already have," Minie said, pulling down a tattered old _Beginner's Potions_ by Libatius Borage, and leafing through it. "Oh, look, someone defaced this book, they've written in the margins and crossed things out! What a waste. Why would the room include a ruined book instead of a good copy?"

Harri peered over her shoulder, "That does seem odd." She paused a moment, then said, "Unless what's written in the margins is important."

"I don't know," Minie said hesitantly.

"Maybe this belonged to an older student who gave it his younger sibling, and added notes based on his upper-level classes? Let's compare this to our books and next time we're in Potions one of us can try this book's instructions," Harri suggested. "If it works, then we'll copy the notes to all out books."

Hermione was unconvinced, "That sounds risky. What if the instructions are a prank?"

"I doubt it. Why fill the entire book with writing just to make a prank on the first spell? We'll figure it out when we try one. And if it is a prank, it can't do worse than Neville." They both looked at the boy who was still staring at the wall, his hand on his chin and his other hand holding his elbow.

They examined many of the books, leafing them to see if they, too, had notes. The Herbology book had notes, too, but the notes just mentioned books where there was more information on individual plants. The rest occasionally had notes as well, just not as extensive as the potions book.

Neville called out, "Guys, if this is really a magic room that takes on the features we want, we need to think about what we want as a group. It would quite a problem if one of us was daydreaming and accidentally made the wall transparent both ways and revealed the room to someone we didn't want to find it. Or when we were doing something we didn't want anyone else to see."

That caught their attention, and the two witches walked over to Neville.

Ron was sitting on his broomstick and lazily spinning in the middle of the room ignoring them.

"Oh, well, that's easy," Hermione responded. "We just agree on what we want for this particular room and declare that only if all four of us agree can anything be changed." She paused, thinking. "We'll need to name it so we can easily get it back."

Neville frowned at her.

"Well, we can't assume we're the only ones who know about this room. And if it changes for each person, well, that means the next time we're here it'll be different, right?"

Neville nodded slowly. "Hey Ron," he called, "Come over here."

Ron drifted over, still sitting on the broom.

"We'll call this Harri's Clubroom. Agreed?" said Minie as they nodded. "And the wall with the door will always be transparent from this side only, as it is now. Agreed?" Again, the others nodded. "Only someone who is a friend of Harri's that _she_ has shown the room to will be able to see the door when they get here, or call the room if it isn't here, right? If one of us comes here with someone who doesn't know about the room, then the door won't appear at all, even if someone _is_ in the room, unless it's Harri and she wants to show someone the room."

"Oh," said Neville, "we should be able to hear sounds from outside the room, so if someone is calling for us we'll know." The others agreed that was a good idea. "But any noises we make in here can't be heard outside."

Harri was looking around the room. Something was missing. . . . "Oh! We need a big clock above where the door appears so we always know the time."

"Oh, good idea! And it needs to chime ten minutes before any of our classes start so we can get to class on time," added Hermione.

"And announce the time each hour, on the hour!" put in Neville.

"Anything else?" Hermione looked at them, one eyebrow arched.

Harri shook her head, followed by Neville and Ron saying, "No."

"That's it then," the bushy-haired witch declared. "Those features remain the same each time unless all four of us agree to change something." They all nodded.

Harri, looked up at the clock over the door space and said, "Shit."

The other's all glanced there as well. The clock indicted 9:25PM. They were twenty-five minutes past curfew.

They ran to the door. Hermione stopped Ron as he was about to walk through the door with his broom. "You can't take that with you, you're a First Year and you'll get in trouble for having a broom at Hogwarts. Leave it here for later."

Ron gazed longingly at the broom, but regretfully leaned it against the wall before following them back into the corridor.

It was fortunate that the Gryffindor Tower entrance and Harri's Clubroom were both on the seventh floor, making it almost a straight run from one to the other. Except, for some bizarre reason, there was a _wall_ in the way, turning that part of the seventh floor corridor into a dead-end. They headed back to the stairs they had just passed.

"Aw, man, the only staircase goes down at least three floors!" Ron moaned. They started down as fast as they could reasonably go and discovered Ron was right, the staircase they were on did go down a long ways. It went right to the third floor with no other landings. Now they were on the opposite side of the castle from their dorm. They could see that the only staircase that went to the Gryffindor tower was on around to their right, so they headed off in that direction.

They had almost made it to the staircase when they heard a noise ahead, and then a voice, "Did you hear something, Mrs. Norris?"

They stopped dead, appalled, "We'll get detentions if he finds us out past curfew," Minie hissed. They turned and ran back the way they had come, as quietly as they could, past, even, the staircase that brought them to this floor. When they finally stopped they were on the opposite side of the stairs from where they had almost encountered Filch.

"Blimey, that was close," panted Ron.

"No joking," gasped Harri.

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor Tower," wheezed Neville, "as quickly as possible."

"Wandering around after curfew, Ickle Firsties?"

Hermione startled and gave a small, "eep!"

It was Peeves, slowly drifting through the door of the nearby classroom. "Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a quiet voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"Bugger off," snapped Ron, taking a swing at Peeves.

"STUDENTS OUT OF DORM!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF DORM!"

Ducking past Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door — and it was locked.

"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!"

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves's shouts.

"Oh, budge up you ninny," Hermione snarled at Ron. She lifted her wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, "_Alohomora!_"

The lock clicked and the door swung open — they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please.'"

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

"All right — please."

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" Filch cursed in rage.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harri whispered. "I think we'll be okay — get _off_, Neville!" Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Harri's robe for the last minute. "_What_?"

Harri turned around, and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, she was sure she'd walked into a nightmare.

They weren't in a room, as she had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

There not thirty feet away was a dog. But not any dog, mind you. This dog had three heads, three snarling heads, three sets of yellow mad eyes, three sets of long fangs. And it was huge, it filled the end of the corridor floor to ceiling, wall to wall.

It had been sleeping and it was not happy at their waking it. And it intended to display its displeasure up close and personal if its thunderous growls and the way its legs were bunching up for a jump were any indication.

Harri groped for the doorknob. Between Filch and death, she'd take Filch.

They fell backward. Harri slammed the door shut, and they ran back down the corridor. Filch was nowhere to be seen, but they didn't care, all they wanted was to put as much space as possible between them and that monster as possible. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at their disheveled robes and their flushed, sweaty faces.

"Pig snout, pig snout," panted Harri, ignoring the question. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.

It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville was as white as their potions professor and looked as if he'd never speak again.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ron finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

Hermione had her breath back again. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"See what it was standing on? Are you daft? I was too busy looking at that thing's teeth! It had three sets of them, in case you didn't notice, because it had _three_ heads!"

Before Harri could say anything, Neville said, "A trapdoor." He was still shivering in fright.

"That's right, a trapdoor. It's guarding something!" Minie declared triumphantly.

Harri thought back to what Hagrid's mysterious package in vault seven hundred and thirteen, the break-in at Gringotts, and Hagrid's claim that there was only one place more secure than Gringotts — Hogwarts.

Later, after telling her parents of her adventures that day and moments before falling asleep, Harri realized that in all the excitement she had forgotten to show her friends her mermaid knickers.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x – X

Next morning, on the way to breakfast, the four of them discussed their adventure the previous night. Neville didn't want to talk about it. Ron was ecstatic about his first "adventure" and couldn't wait for the next. Hermione wanted nothing to do with adventures and spent the entire walk to the Great Hall lecturing them about how they should be more careful and watch the time — they all, except Harri, had watches, after all — and how could they keep such a dangerous creature in a school of defenseless children?

Harri was unsure on how she felt. Mum had been very disapproving and Dad had chortled with glee at their discoveries. He thought Harri's Clubroom was the greatest idea ever! He wondered if it could supply potion ingredients and perhaps a few pranking charms. He insisted, over Mum's loud objections that Harri should investigate the possibilities.

Halfway through breakfast came the owls and, to Harri's astonishment, a set of six owls came flying to her with a big package! No sooner had they dropped it in her lap, as well as Minie's and Ron's as they were sitting on either side of her, then another, smaller owl dropped a letter in front of Harri's plate. The smaller letter being easier to reach without accidentally hitting either of her friends in the face while opening it, Harri popped the sealing wax and read:

**_DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE._**

_It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session._

_Professor M. McGonagall_

Delighted, and unsure of how a Nimbus Two Thousand was different from other brooms, she handed the letter to Ron. "I've never even _touched_ one," he moaned piteously. Envy, thy name is Ronald Bilius Weasley!

They quickly retired to the Gryffindor Common Room, where Harri ripped the packaging apart to disclose that yes indeed that she had a Nimbus Two Thousand. She turned and held it out to Ron, "Quick, touch it!" A bemused Ron and Neville spent the next few minutes ah-ing and oh-ing as they stroked the broomstick.

Unfortunately, it was soon time to take off for their Double-Potions class. Harri put the broom in her closet, and they hurried off to class.

It had been a full week since the Professor had discovered Harri's past, so it was with some trepidation that she entered the dungeon room and sought out her chair, Neville sitting beside her. Minie and Ron took the table over beside Neville while, unfortunately, Pansy Parkinson and Gregory Goyle took the table beside Harri. For some reason they thought it was Harri's fault Malfoy had been sent from the school, and were not shy with their insults. Professor Snape watched the students enter without a change in his normal, sneering expression, although, Harri thought, his gaze lingered on her the longest, and kept returning to her as the other students trickled in.

As soon as the last student sat, Snape announced, "Today you have just enough time to make this potion paste if you don't waste any time in idle chatter and work together efficiently." He waved his wand and the instructions for _Zephlepod's Burn-healing Paste_ appeared on the board behind him.

Harri grabbed the potion book from their magic room and set to work, after first comparing the instructions to the board to make sure they mostly matched and she had the right page. Hermione had refused to deviate from the book she had purchased, "If you want to experiment and ruin your potion, go right ahead. I'm sticking with what I know will work, which is what my textbook tells me, not what some unknown person has written in the margins. If you know what's good for you, you'll do the same! It's probably a prank and you'll be worse than sorry once Professor Snape gets through with you for trusting someone else's duff notes. Just make sure you don't get me in trouble, too! I don't want to waste my study time in a detention, never mind what having a detention on my record will do when I go to get a job after we graduate." God, how did she manage to say all that without breathing, Harri wondered.

Harri went and collected the ingredients while Neville set up their equipment. The notes were not that different, just minor asides, such as "slice the Fergus cap at a forty-five degree angle instead of vertical" and for the chopped pumpkin seeds it said "cut into quarters instead of chopping."

Harri made sure she re-read and check-marked each step as they completed it, making Neville double-check her every move. Minie was having difficulty getting Ron to cooperate as he seemed to think the instructions were mere guidelines with plenty of room for variations in timing and quantities. Harri was amazed their potion hadn't exploded by the time it came to spoon it out.

Professor Snape had wandered around the class offering many cutting remarks to the Gryffindor students while giving equally many compliments to the Syltherins. To Neville and Harri he had said nothing, just standing behind them as they stirred their cauldron and added the proper ingredients at the proper times. Neville was so nervous his hand shook as he stirred the potion.

Harri and Neville finished first, and Harri made sure that every bit of the cauldron's contents went into the potion tins, scrapping the sides carefully, and getting five full tins. Each tin was two-inches on a side and an inch deep. Their paste was a sunny bright-yellow, lumpy, and smelled like Dudley's underwear — really rancid. The first two features were listed in the margin notes. The book itself said the paste should be yellow, not quite smooth, and smell awful.

She put the extra four in her pocket while putting the finished one on Professor Snape's desk with the potion name, date, and her and Neville's names on it. Professor Snape stared at the tin for a long time before finally opening it and inspecting the contents. He touched the tip of his wand to the paste for a brief moment, then studied the can a moment longer. Looking as if he had just eaten something extremely distasteful he finally said, "Two points to Gryffindor for the correctly prepared paste _and_ finishing first." The Gryffindors and Slytherins all stopped to stare at Professor Snape, then at Harri and Neville, and then back at the professor. He looked up and frowned at them. The students quickly turned their attention back to their cauldrons.

Harri and Neville had completely cleaned up their table, cleaned their tools, and even finished cleaning the cauldron by the time Minie and Ron finished their paste ten minutes later, followed by the rest of the class over the ten minutes that followed that. Thankfully, there were no explosions or melted cauldrons _this_ class.

It seemed that the potions book they had found was indeed better than their regular book.

They spent the break between Potions and Lunch working on their potions homework, a two-foot paper on when you should and should _not_ use _Zephlepod's Burn-healing Paste_, as well as how to detect when the paste has gone-off and is no longer good enough to use.

They had no sooner sat at the table for lunch when Harri discovered the Weasley twins on either side of her, leaning close.

"We know you somehow managed to get Malfoy suspended," came from the twin on her left.

"And even if it was more accident than actually planned," came from the other.

"A prank that gets someone expelled for being an idiot,"

"Is a prank we've been striving for for years."

"You have our respect."

"Should you need any assistance with a future prank,"

"We have a vast storehouse of knowledge at our disposal,"

"We would be pleased to share with you."

Then they both bowed to her and left to find their own seating with their year students.

Hermione immediately spoke up, "Don't you dare, Harri! You saw how much trouble Draco got into, and pranking can get you in just as much trouble, especially if something goes wrong and you hurt someone, even by accident.

Ron objected to Minie's exaggeration of the punishments for pranks, "But Fred and George have been doing it for years and they're still here! Besides, seeing that prat Draco get what was coming to him felt good, didn't it?"

By her expression, Harri could tell that Hermione wanted to deny it. She couldn't, though, because it had felt good to see that loud-mouth braggart get what he deserved for thinking he was above the rules. Not to mention for picking on others simply because of his perceived "superiority."

And off they went into an argument over the merits of pranking versus the dangers. Harri stood up, pushed Ron over towards Minie, and sat back down in his place. The two students didn't even notice.

"So, Neville, what shall we do this afternoon — Transfigurations or finish the Potions assignment?"

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

At seven in the evening Harri met with Oliver Wood to discuss Quidditch. It didn't take long, less than half an hour for her introduction to the realities of playing that aerial game. Afterwards, she was torn between rushing back to the Common Room and telling her friends or going to visit Hagrid to tell him her good fortune.

Hagrid won out, and so a few minutes later, she was knocking on his door.

"Harri! Whot brings yeh here?" asked the half-giant.

She smirked and hung her robe on the cloak stand beside the door.

While drinking her bowl, er, cup of tea, she brought him up to speed on her joining the Quidditch team, Professor Snape's discovery of how horrid her relatives were to her, and that he had "discussed" that issue with them. Hagrid, having met the sods, was glad to hear that they were turning over a new leaf in regards to Harri being at their home. "But, Harri," he added "If'n they give yer any trouble, just yer le' me know, and I'll straighten 'em out!"

Then Harri remembered their adventure the previous night.

"Oh, Hagrid, me and my friends were exploring the castle and accidentally missed curfew. We were trying to get to the dorms when we ran into Filch, and we ended up on the third floor with Filch right behind us and we opened a locked door. There was this huge dog with three-heads there! I thought we were gonna die!"

"Yeh found Fluffy? Heh, Fluffy would'na hurt a fly!"

Hagrid suddenly looked away, "Should'na' said that. You should forget I said that, Harri."

"Fluffy, you named that behemoth Fluffy? The wall and floor shook when he hit the wall after we escaped!"

Hagrid smiled, "Well, Fluffy is a big dog, after all, but 'e's got a gentle heart."

She stared at the half-giant, aghast, "_Gentle-heart_?"

"Yeh," Hagrid smiled, "Loves music he does, goes right to sleep, he does." Hagrid frowned, "Should'na said that. You should forget I said that, Harri. Don't you worry about Fluffy, he's a good guard dog, 'e is!"

Harri stared at him a moment longer, then shook her head ruefully. A secret keeper Hagrid wasn't. And that reminded her.

"Hagrid, we need to make a vow."

"Eh?"

"Neville told us about a Wizard's Vow, to keep our secrets."

Hagrid frowned. She knew he knew about the vows because he was a wizard, but she also knew his wand wasn't working right — she remembered how Dudley had been given a pig's tail and not turned into a pig as Hagrid had tried to do on the island.

But magic was all about intent. Her solicitor had told her that the wand is merely a focus point that makes it much easier to do magic. If a wand were _required_, then accidental magic would be impossible, as would _wand-less_ magic..

"Hagrid, hold out your right hand," she ordered, remembering he had held that umbrella with his wand in it in his right hand.

Hesitantly, Hagrid did as he was told.

She touched his index finger with her wand. "Now repeat after me, 'I swear I will be unable to tell anyone not one of Harri's close friends what Harri says or does that she or I would consider personal unless she gives me her permission to do so. So mote it be.'"

He sat for a moment, thinking about what she had said. Then he nodded. She repeated it slowly, and he followed along with her. As she had seen on Sunday, a glow extended down her wand to her arm and body, while the same happened to Hagrid.

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed afterwards. "Hermione, Ron, and Neville are my close friends, no one else yet. So, if you have any questions, you can ask them." She smirked, "And any details about Fluffy and what Fluffy is guarding I consider personal information until summer!"

Hagrid blinked at that last bit.

Harri sat for a minute reflecting on how her life had so dramatically changed in just a few short weeks. From being used as a flesh-and-blood sex toy to setting out on her way to become a magic using witch, playing in a flying sport, and having adventures involving giant three-headed dogs that loved music! Not to mention her new business ventures, her vaults, and clothes.

Then she stood up on her chair. "Oh, Hagrid, I haven't had a chance to show you my new knickers all week! Look!" And she lifted her skirt. Hagrid, naturally, looked. And then turned bright red.

"_Harri!_ Yeh shuld'na done that." He looked away, then looked back, then looked away again.

"It's alright, Hagrid, Madam Pomfrey said that because you're my friend, I can show you my knickers!"

"_What?_" Hagrid looked back at her.

"Uh huh," she answered, looking down at her knickers, admiring the way the Centaurs were prancing across them, although now the female Centaurs were beginning to look upset and the male Centaurs were glaring at Hagrid. Then Harri told Hagrid about staying overnight in the Hospital Wing to regrow some vanished bones, and the events of the next morning. "So, you see, because you're my friend it's okay to do things like this with you, she said so!"

"I don' know 'bout that, Harri," said Hagrid, eyes flicking between her face and her knickers.

The little witch smirked and grabbed the edges of her knickers, "Well, if you don't want to _see_ them, I _could_ take them off."

"No! No!" Hagrid said, half panicked, "Leave 'em on. Ther' fine just whar they are."

She jumped up on the table and walked across to him, which put her knickers at his eye level. He stared at her knickers, it reminded her an awful lot of the look Neville and Ron got when she showed them her knickers up close, the deer-in-headlight look — dazzled and unable to look away. She unbuttoned the waist of her skirt and dropped it to the table. "Isn't it ace the way they run around? Look, the girls have all run to the back while all the guys are in front." She turned around to show him, shoving her bum practically in his face. The female Centaurs were quickly vacating the back and heading for the front.

She turned back around and leaned forward across the gap between the table and Hagrid, putting her arms around his neck. "Hagrid, thank you for being my friend." She climbed into his lap. "I can tell you _anything_ and you won't get mad."

Hagrid was lying on his bed staring at the ceiling. We should'na don' that, Harri, we should'na don' that."

"Hagrid, I told you, Professor McGonagall said it was alright. You're my friend. The best friend I've got! You were the first person who was ever happy to see _me_, and that was because you knew me when I was a baby and not because I was supposed to be this famous bloke. You helped me because you _wanted_ to, you bought me a present because you _wanted_ to, you were angry with the Dursleys because they never told me about Wizards or my _parents_. I feel like I can say or do anything I want and you won't yell or get mad at me. And that's important."

She scooted forward, sitting up on his chest, and staring down at him. "You're my friend and I want to help my friends. You live out here all alone and most everybody ignores you and what you do. Most students don't even know your name or what you do. And that's wrong. So, get used to it. I am going to be visiting you. My _friends_ are going to be visiting you."

Hagrid shifted his gaze from the ceiling to her and blushed, then returned to looking at the ceiling. "I still say we should'na done that. It ain't right, yer bein' a student and all."

Harri stared down at him. "Hagrid, what's Fluffy guarding? Is it that package you picked up from Gringott's?"

Hagrid's eyes locked onto the nude witch sitting on his chest. "Harri, yeh put that dog right outer yer mind, that's between Perfessor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel!" Hagrid scrunched his eyes closed, "Should'na said that." He opened his eyes and stared at Harri. "Yer meddlin' in things yer should'na. Yeh forget that dog, yeh forget what it's guardin', and yeh forget about tha' package from Gringott's. It'll jus' land yer in trouble, it will!"

Harri giggled and slid herself backwards. Hagrid temporarily forgot all about what he and Harri "should'na" done.

She had to run to make it back to her dorm before curfew, and still only just made it.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Saturday, after they decided to split the day between playing and homework, she told her friends about her becoming the Seeker on the Gryffindor team. After they calmed Ron down about her being on the Quidditch team, and dealt a bit with him being jealous — after all he couldn't even try out for the team! — she told them how during her visit with Hagrid to show him her knickers she had learned all about Fluffy and Flamel.

"Fluffy? He named that monster Fluffy? He's _mental_, absolutely _mental_!" declared Ron.

After repeating that Harri really shouldn't be showing her knickers to the half-giant, Minie spent her time speculating about the mysterious package and Flamel. Apparently, she loved solving mysteries and this was a mystery. Harri had a flash of inspiration! Get Minie a deer-stalker hat and magnifying glass. Harri had a giggling fit at the thought of Minie declaring, "Come Neville! The game is afoot!" or "Elementary, my dear Ronald, elementary!"

It took only a couple of moments for the bushy-haired witch to organize her thoughts and have a book appear in their Study Room bookcase named _Famous Alchemists of the Ages_, an enormous old book. That revealed that Nicolas Flamel (b. 1327AD) is the only Wizards to succeed in creating the Philosopher's Stone that grants immortality to the owner.

The four looked at each other. "I think we know what that package was and why someone would want to steal it," said Harri. "Now all we have to do is figure out who!"

On her pillow that night was a small book, _The New Housewitches' Guide to Fertility and Contraception_.


	9. Once More Into the Fray

**Once More Into the Fray**

Between her Quidditch practices and homework the next seven weeks seemed to fly by, but she still managed to visit Hagrid every Friday even if it was only for a single bowl of tea while she told him about her classes. Ron, Minie, and Nev usually accompanied her, but sometimes she visited him alone, as did they. Hagrid had never had so many visits from students, and he seemed to like it. And Harri had shown off all her witchy knickers to Hagrid and her friends. Reluctantly, Hermione had also show them her knickers. She had even shown them to Hagrid after much persuasion by Harri.

Harri still liked to show off which knickers she was wearing when they went to the Clubroom. When she was bored she would occasionally dragoon one or both of the boys to help her trap the animated creatures on one side or the other after taking off her skirt and tying her shirt above her waist. Minie still objected, but had been reduced to merely mumbling complaints and making faces. After being at first too stunned to do more than just watch her, the boys slowly got into the game, taking a hand off her hip to let a creature move from back to front, or vice versa, and sometimes using both hands to trap a creature near one hip and then scooting it to the front. Harri could hardly wait to go shopping again to get more knickers.

Malfoy returned after a two-week absence, much subdued. He still let fly with the occasional insult, but he was far more circumspect, watching more than talking. It made for quieter classes. He didn't say much to Neville or Ron, and almost seemed to be avoiding Harri. Pansy Parkinson picked up where Draco had stopped, unfortunately.

True to his word, Professor Snape had been treating Harri as he did all his Slytherin students. While Gryffindor students still bore the brunt of his wrath and the Slytherins enjoyed his compliments, Harri was in-between. She hadn't lost any points and had even earned a few, to the Slytherins everlasting astonishment.

Professor Snape's attitude to the entire class, in fact, had gone through a change. He couldn't very well treat Harri the same as his Slytherins without it looking like she was getting special treatment, something he swore he would never give the famous Harry Potter.

While he didn't start handing out points to Gryffindor students, no longer was he deducting them in wholesale batches. The first time she had asked a question he gave her detention for the same evening, and then when she arrived he had answered her question in detail and helped her with other questions she had had but had been reluctant to ask. He taught her things such as why you sometimes diced instead of slicing, how chopping was different from slicing, and why dribbling ingredients into the potion was better than just dumping them by the handful. Topics their books seemed to think the students should understand without explanations.

Thus it was that every time she had a question, she ended up with a detention that answered her question and much more besides. It was a private tutoring lesson. She made sure to pass on what she learned to her friends. She also suggested that maybe if the Professor explained these things in class there would be fewer melted cauldrons and explosions.

A week later, after three explosions and several melted cauldrons in just one hour, the professor spent the remainder of the class sneeringly demonstrating proper ingredient preparation. He also assigned a three-foot essay on why it was important to follow directions _exactly_, with cited examples of what could result in failing to do so. Each student also had to design and hand in a "Standard Operating Procedure" for preparing potions. Failing to follow the procedures the student designed resulted in points-loss and detentions. In the following three weeks, there were no explosions and only one cauldron melted.

For the first time in a decade, she heard from the older students, Gryffindor's were actually learning to _like_ potions! These same upper grade students were practically green with envy at how even-handed Professor Snape was in that single First Years' class.

Fred and George even stopped by once to ask how she had managed to blackmail the abrasive professor into some semblance of fairness. She denied blackmailing him, but couldn't explain why he was acting the way he was without revealing secrets she'd rather keep. She finally told them they would have to speak with the Professor themselves if they wanted to know why he was acting different in her class from the rest. And she told them not call him a "git," "snivellus," or any other derogatory name in her hearing.

The only other highlights in that time were the two owls from her solicitor with a brief statement on her earnings, one each on September and October fifteenth and covering the previous month. Between Truckle's Trunks and Amanuensis she had cleared 2,500 galleons in royalties, after Tonks & Tonks took their ten percent. Andromeda had included a note in with the second statement about the Grand Opening sale in Hogsmeade which had been a great success. It easily had paid for the inventory sold, fixing up the building, and covering the salesclerks wages for not only October, but November as well! She'd find out in December what the actual numbers were for that grand opening.

Oddly, though, she didn't receive anything from Gringotts acknowledging the deposits. But still, that was a lot of galleons to earn while simply going to school. From what she had been able to suss out the average wizard or witch earned something like 4,000 galleons a year, and she'd made over half that in just two months!

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x – X

Harris was amazed to wake one morning and realize that it was Halloween! She wondered how the Wizards celebrated it. Did they do like the world she grew up in and postpone all the fun parties to the weekend? Not that she had ever been to one. The closest she came to celebrating it was looking out her bedroom window to see what little she could of the costumes the kids wore as they walked on the sidewalk at the front yard while she was locked in her room. Dudley, meanwhile, went out and terrorized the little kids into giving him and his gang their candy and his parents went to a company party. They put out a bowl on a chair with a note at the bottom of the bowl saying that all the candy had been taken, with only a small amount of candy covering the paper to start the evening.

Not that she really had anything to celebrate, anyway, because that was the night she became an orphan, and, she now knew, a girl. She wondered how things might have been different if she were a boy. Dudley wouldn't have been such a bully, she would have been able to play with Dudley as an equal. They would have been friends, playing pranks on each other, bickering good-naturedly like real siblings. They could have shared toys, watched TV, gone to movies, and played together. Everything would have been so different and so much better.

She shook her head. She had to concentrate. Today they were going to make things _fly_! Ron and Minie were paired together, and she was with Nev, again. Ron, true to form was having difficulty getting the charm to work, and Hermione was as quick as always to correct him. When he demanded, "If you're so smart, you do it!" she did, getting praise from Professor Flitwick for her success. By the end of the class, Ron was in a foul mood.

Ron, being the insensitive clod of a boy that he was, couldn't help but express his frustration with failing to do the charm by taking it out on the bossy witch who was trying to help him."It's a miracle everyone doesn't hex her on sight, the bossy bitch," he muttered to Harri and Neville as he followed them into the crowded corridor. "Honestly, she drives me bats."

Someone knocked into Harri as they shoved past. It was Minie, and Harri wasn't startled to see tears on her face.

Harri stopped dead and turned to face Ron. "That was mean."

Ron looked a bit uncomfortable. "It's true, though, she must've noticed she's got no friends except you."

Harri, for the first time in her life, slapped a boy, hard. Several students around them, not really noticing the byplay until then, stopped and watched as the close-knit four fought in public.

Ron put his hand on his bright-red cheek.

"She's _your_ friend, too, you bell-end. If you had bothered to listen you might have been the second person to successfully float a feather, but no, you know better, which is why you do so bad in all your classes. If it weren't for her nagging you'd be failing all your classes! Well, you miserable excuse for a wizard, if you want to remain friends with me you'd better find and apologize to her right now!" Harri turned on her heel and stormed away.

She searched all through lunch without success. It wasn't until DADA class that she heard that Minie was in the First Floor Witches' Toilets across the castle from the Great Hall. Harri had checked there twice already without seeing the witch or getting a response to her, "Are you in here Minie?" She hadn't heard any sobbing or other noises to indicate anyone was in the room at all. Harri decided to go there instead of flying class.

"Minie? Are you okay?" Harri asked as she pushed open the door to the First Floor Witches' Toilet. No response. She frowned and cast _finite incantatem_ on the first stall, then worked her way down them until she heard someone sniffling.

"Go away."

"Nope, not gonna happen."

"Go. Away."

"Minie, let me in."

"No."

"Then I'll just sit here." Harri sat on the floor, casting a cushion charm first. No reason to be uncomfortable.

"He's right, you know," said Harri ten minutes later.

"What?" came the quiet response.

"You try too hard to help people, it comes across as irritatingly bossy. Sort of 'I know better than _you_, and I'm going to tell you what _I_ know so you can see how smart _I_ am.' You're making it seem as if you think you are _superior_ to everyone else."

There was no answer, just a sniffle.

After another ten minutes, Harri added, "Instead of saying, 'you're doing it wrong,' use a little tact. Say, 'you've almost got it, I think all you need to do is this' and tell them what needs to change." At least that's what she had heard the salesmen say, especially when they caught their bosses doing something 'counter-productive' as they put it. "It's like, when I told you to be more confident with the broom in the flying lesson. How would you have reacted if I had marched over and said 'You're doing it all wrong. I know better than you do! Do it this way!' and embarrassed you in front of everybody?

"I like you Minie, but sometimes you are just. . . so. . . _bossy_! Everyone _knows_ you're the smartest witch in our class, you get the highest grade on all the tests and all the assignements. You don't have to prove it over and over again in class. Let someone _else_ answer the question. If the Professor asks a question, wait a moment to see if anyone else answers it first. You've already proven to the professors that you always know the right answer. Jumping up like a jack-in-the-box whenever there's a question merely makes it seem like you're an attention-whore, "Look! Look! I know the answer and no one else does!"

"And you're not an attention-whore, you just want the professors to _know_ you did the work. Well, Minie, they _know_! You don't need to keep being the first to raise your hand. So, the next time the professor asks a question, if no one else raises their hand, _then_ raise yours."

The door to the stall opened slightly. "You still like me?"

"Minie," Harri smiled, "Of course I like you. You're one of my _friends_. I _trust_ you. Sometimes I might get mad at you and maybe I'll yell at you, but that doesn't change the fact that you're my friend. After all, I don't show my knickers to everybody, just my friends." She paused a moment, "By the way, which ones are _you_ wearing today?"

The door opened a bit further and the bushy-haired witch looked out. Harri moved into the stall pushing open the door, and hugged her. Hermione was taller than she was by several inches. Harri stood on her tip-toes and kissed the clueless witch her on the cheek. "You're my friend, Minie, that will _never_ change unless _you_ want it to." They stood there for a few minutes before Minie put her arms around Harri and hugged her back. Harri discovered she really liked hugging and they stayed like that for a while. Harri could have stayed like that for hours. Eventually, Minie let her go and stepped back.

"Thanks," Minie said. After a long pause, she said, "So, I'm too bossy, am I?"

Harri grinned at her, remembering a conversation she had overheard between a veteran salesman and a new hire fresh from university. She sat on the floor and crossed her legs. Minie, after pausing, did the same. Harri leaned forward and lifted up the front of Minie's skirt, the knickers were plain white with frills.

"AHHH!" Minie slammed her hands down, pulling the skirt from Harri's hand and holding it down in her lap.

"Well, I did ask what you had on today. I think you should get some witch knickers. They really are more fun."

"Haaarrrriii!" Hermione cried, "Don't _do_ that!" She looked at the other girl, momentarily furious.

"Anyway," Harri said, ignoring the other girl's reaction, "Minie, ever met someone from a prep school?" Blinking at the sudden shift in topics, the bushy-haired witch shook her head.

"In a prep school new kids are assigned a mentor to teach them how to act in school. The mentor, an older student, is supposed to show them around and make sure they know the rules, and to correct them when they make mistakes. And those corrections always end up as something like," and Harri tried to make her voice sound deep, "You did that wrong! Here's the right way to do it! _I_ know better than _you_! Do what I tell you to do! Do it that way from now on!"

Hermione frowned.

"And they do it on everything from how to tie your shoes to which colors go together to how to solve a math problem.

"As a result, prep students learn to be rude and condescending when talking with their fellow students, it's always a game of one-upmanship — _I_ know better than _you_! They are always trying to show their fellow students and under-classmen that they know more than anyone else does. They graduate and always come across as being bossy, overbearing know-it-alls who spend their time looking down on everyone else for not knowing the 'correct' way to do things. Kinda like the way Slytherins act, don't you think?" Harri sighed. "If it weren't for the fact that most of them go to work for daddy or daddy's friend they'd never get a job.

"And that's exactly how you come off to everyone. If you don't get it under control, you're going to alienate the very people you want to help, and not even _know_ what you did wrong. For anyone who has to deal with people, like a salesman, that's the kiss of death. You can't afford to talk down to your customers if you want to make a sale."

Hermione's frown deepened and she opened her mouth to say something, but Harri cut her off, "Yeah, you're not a salesman, but you are trying to fit in at Hogwarts, aren't you?"

The witch nodded.

"Then stop trying to be a _Professor_! People can see how smart you are, if they want your help, they'll ask. It's like I heard one man tell his son about dating girls: always give them a graceful out. Instead of asking 'Will you go out with me Friday?' say 'If you aren't busy, would you like to go out Friday?' That way, if she's not interested you don't get a flat soul-crushing rejection, you get 'Gee, I can't, I have to — and fill-in-the-blank with whatever excuse is handy.' And if she really has something else to do, and she likes you, she'll drop a hint to ask her again later. Or even suggest an alternative day.

"Of course, you're not asking any girls out, but the idea is the same. Not 'you're doing that wrong' but 'I had trouble doing that, too, but I found that if you do this it'll work better' or 'if would you like help with that, just ask,' or 'if you're having trouble with that, I know a trick that makes it easier' and if they are interested, they'll _ask_ for help."

Hermione nodded. The two witches got lost in their discussion on navigating the perils of being too smart. Not that Harri was too smart, but she could see what Hermione missed by being too close to the problem.

It was only when the door to the Witches' Toilets slammed open and this horrible stench came rolling in that they realized there was a problem. They stood and peeked around the stall door. When the troll stepped in they realized their problem had upgraded to a life-and-death situation — theirs!

Harri's first instinct was to be quiet and not let the troll see her while stealthily sneaking out of the door. However, Hermione's air-raid-siren volume scream, which Harri believed was heard in Hogsmeade, immediately attracted the troll's attention. Harri grabbed her friend and yanked her down to the floor as the troll swung his club. The club, which looked to have once been a very big tree, slammed through the stall walls, snapping many of them in half. Harri heard a muffled crashing sound and hoped her hearing would return before Christmas. God! What a pair of lungs that girl had!

Crowding Minie in front of her, she scuttled as fast as she could under the stall walls towards the back of the room. Heading to the door was right out as most of their cover had been destroyed. The backswing of the club took a number of the sinks on the wall opposite the toilets, shattering porcelain and breaking pipes. The troll looked around the room at the water spraying everywhere and seemed oddly happy.

Harri pointed her wand and cried, "S_TUPEFY_!" Nothing happened, so either she did it wrong or the troll was immune to magic. The troll twitched his shoulders — ugh, they could tell it was a male, his ragged trousers didn't really hide much — and turned his attention back to her. Hermione was inhaling for another sonic blast. The door burst open behind the troll. To Harri's astonishment, Ron and Neville appeared.

Harri elbowed Minie hard in the side. "DO SOMETHING!" she yelled at the girl. Harri then tried the _incarcerous_ spell. Ropes appeared around the troll. He didn't appear to notice them. He raised his club for another swing. The ropes snapped, they were as effective as strands of spaghetti.

Ron and Nevellie both fired off spells. The troll turned to look, noticing them for the first time. Harri charged forward. Neville started throwing debris at the troll. Harri leapt to part of a sink still attached to the wall, then jumped for the trolls arm. She scrambled up his arm to his head. She pointed her wand at his ear and yelled, "_AUREM DAMNO MAGNO_!" If she made sounds painfully loud maybe it would prevent the troll from hearing them over the other noise.

The troll now seemed to notice her for the first time. He swung his club upwards at her. For a moment, she thought he would hit himself in the head. She slipped in avoiding the club and ended up grabbing him around the head. Her wand went up his nose.

Meanwhile, Ron and Neville had been hurling spells and debris from the floor at the troll. Ron pointed his wand at the troll's upheld club and yelled_._ She heard Hermione yelling something. The ringing in her ears prevented her from hearing exactly what any of them said. The massive club slowly went up, dragging the troll's hand up until he let go in surprise and watched it rise to the ceiling overhead. At the same time that Harri cried, "_STUPEFY,_" the club came crashing down on the troll's head, narrowly missing her.

Whether it was the club, Harri's _stupefy_ from her wand in his nose, or both, the troll tottered for a moment, and then crashed to the floor. Harri fell off and onto the floor. Harri could hear only the muffled sound of water spraying against the walls from the broken pipes. She scrambled to her feet and the four of them stared at each other.

"Did you kill it?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"I DON'T _THINK_ SO," said Harri.

"I think he's just knocked out," said Neville. "And you don't have to yell, Harri" he said looking at her.

"I'M NOT YELLING, WHY ARE YOU WHISPERING?" Harri responded.

Ron was holding his wand up in front of his face and staring alternately at the wand, the troll, and the troll's club.

Harri retrieved her wand from the troll's nose. "ICK," she said, wiping it off as best she could on the troll's trousers. Hermione echoing her comment.

The door slammed open, startling them. All four spun around and pointed their wands at the door. Professor McGonagall burst into the room, with Snape and with Quirrell close behind. Quirrell collapsed on the one toilet still intact, whimpering and clutching his heart at the sight of the troll.

Professor Snape examined the troll. Professor McGonagall was staring at the four students, her eyebrows raised. The four Gryffindor's looked at her, then at their wands. They quickly straightened and hid their wands behind their backs. Harri had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" Professor McGonagall demanded, cold fury in her voice. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Harri was speechless for a moment, then said, "TODAY IS THE DAY MY PARENTS _DIED_."

Hermione elbowed her in the side, hard. "Sorry Professor McGonagall, I think I screamed in Harri's ear."

Harri, frowned, put her fingers in her ears and wiggled them, then yawned, hoping that would make her ears pop.

"Anyway," Hermione continued, "Harri didn't feel like celebrating tonight."

Harri gave the Professor as cold a look as she could.

"I was keeping her company while we wandered around. We stopped in here for a minute to use the facilities. Suddenly this," the bushy-haired witch pointed at the troll, "troll burst in and we were fighting for our lives. If Ron and Neville hadn't come in when they did we'd be _dead_."

The three students were staring at Hermione as if she had grown a second head. Hermione was telling a _lie_? To a _Professor_?

Ron recovered first, saying, "Yeah, we were headed to the dorm when I thought I saw Hermione and Harri at the end of the hall. We knew they didn't know about the troll because they weren't at their seats int eh Great Hall. The prefects were way ahead of us, so Neville and I ran down to tell them to go to the dorm. But then we saw the troll go into the Witches' Toilet. I thought we'd run to tell our Prefects about seeing the troll, because that was more important. But then we heard a scream and realized that was where the girls were, so we rushed in to help."

Professor McGonagall looked at her four errant students, two who were drenched. Her expression changing from fury to merely upset. "Well, I must say you have the luck of the Irish — not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. Five points to Gryffindor for each of you. I will inform Professor Dumbledore of this. If you're not hurt. . . . you are unhurt, correct?" They nodded. "You'd better get off to Gryffindor Tower," the professor continued. "Students are finishing the feast in their Houses."

They were halfway to their dorm when Ron spoke up. "Right." He stopped on the staircase looking up at the two witches. He took a deep breath, "Hermione, I'm sorry. Sometimes I can be a right git, and today was one of them."

Hermione stared down at him, then gave a curt nod. "Okay." She turned to continue up the stairs, but turned back, "Thanks for coming to save us." She then went on up the stairs.

Ron mumbled, "you're welcome," and followed.

Neville and Harri just looked at each other, amazed at Ron apologizing. Their friendship had turned a corner.

And Harri's wand needed cleaning. She still had it in hand, not wanting any of the troll snot to get in her wand holster to do who knew what in damage to it. And the ringing in her ears had finally subsided. Who knew Minie could hit the volume of an air-raid siren?

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x – X

The next day, Friday, Professor Snape was waiting in the classroom, sitting behind his desk, as the students filed in. They could tell just by his expression that it was not going to be a good day and even the Slytherins were subdued and quiet.

By now, even Hermione had admitted that their "found" potions book was superior to the standard text and she had diligently copied all the notations and "improvements" to her book. They had worked out a system where they rotated in teaming with Neville. Even with the new S.O.P.s the students designed, Neville, was still a hazard in the Potions room. He could help prepare a passable potion as long as his partner kept a sharp eye on where Neville's hands were and what they were about to do.

Professor Snape, seeing the advantages of fewer melted cauldrons and explosions allowed them to maintain their rotation. And Neville's confidence was growing as each successfully completed potion demonstrated that, yes, he _could_ do things right if he was careful.

Today was a bit nerve-wracking, but the four made it through to the end with potions that earned, if not praise, at least not condemnations. Harri noticed that the professor seemed to be limping as he moved around the room.

After announcing their assignments and dismissing the class, the potions Professor added, "Miss Potter, I need to speak with you."

Harri grabbed her stuff and walked over to Professor Snape's desk and stood there waiting as he finished making notes on a parchment. As soon as the last student left the classroom, he put down his quill and looked at her, no sneer, just a blank expression. The classroom door silently swung shut.

"Miss Potter, I paid a visit to your — relatives. They were quite unpleasant."

Harri nodded, she could easily believe that, and wondered where he was headed with this.

"I can assure you that they will never again treat you with anything but the utmost respect."

Harri stared at him, stunned. She finally asked, "What did you do?"

He returned her stare levelly, no sneering, just a calm placid expression, as if he were relaying the weather forecast, "That is neither here nor there, suffice to say that they will not strike you or force you to do anything like they used to do. They might _ask_ you to help with the household chores, but you are free to say no. They will ensure that you always have sufficient food and drink, as well as clothing or _anything_ _else_ you may require. They will not interfere with your studies or hinder your activities."

Harri stared at him, mind blank, unable to think of what to say until. . . "What of the hotel?"

His expression hardened slightly. "The. . . muggles. . . whom you met at that hotel have been arrested and charged with the crime of child molestation over the last few weeks."

Harri began to breathe quickly, starting to panic. They had learned about her at the hotel room, soon everyone would know.

"Relax, child," Professor Snape ordered, scoffing, "Did you _really_ think you were the _only_ one those muggles abused?" He snorted. "For most of them you were merely one among many. They do not remember you, now, however, so they can never tell anyone about you." He studied her carefully as she slowly brought herself back under control.

"I merely did a bit of investigating and discovered a few of their victims. Then I had one of them 'confess' to the Bobbies about what he had done. The entire ring collapsed as each one brought in by the Bobbies gave a complete confession and named the other culprits in an attempt to bargain for a lighter sentence he or she will not receive.

"Your uncle understands that the only reason he isn't in jail with them is because of _you_. And if he wants to remain out of jail, well he had better treat you as if you were one of his top clients at his business."

Harri stood there, knees shaking. She realized tears were pouring down her face.

Snape sat watching her, his face a mask that didn't betray what he was thinking or feeling.

Finally, Harri managed to whisper, "Thank you." Then she stepped close and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly, whispering over and over, "Thank you, thank you." She felt him pat her back.

She stepped back. "Thank you, sir," wiping at her cheeks and sniffling.

"You may go now, child. If you have any problems on _anything_, come to my office at any time of the day or night. Simply tell a portrait or any of the Hogwarts ghosts that you need to speak with me and I will meet you at my office as soon as practical. If I cannot, I will get word to you."

Harri stumbled slowly to the door. She stopped for a moment to gather her thoughts, and wipe her face again. Then she took a deep breath, stood straight, and left the classroom.

To her surprise, Minie, Ron, and Neville were all waiting in the corridor.

"Are you alright?" asked Minie, seeing that Harri had been crying.

"What did that git do?" demanded Ron.

"Nothing, it's nothing. I'm crying because, because, because he gave me good news about my relatives." She hiccoughed. "They're gonna be nice to me from now on. No more locking me in my room without meals, no more beatings, no more punishments, no more hotel. . . ," she stopped abruptly and hiccoughed.

The other three exchanged puzzled glances.

"He said everything is fixed now. Everything is fine." She hiccoughed again. "Oh great, now I got the hiccoughs." She grinned at the others, her eyes a little bleary from the tears that were still coming out. Then she hiccoughed.

"We'd better get started on our assignment so we'll have the weekend free." And she hiccoughed, again.

Quidditch season at the school started on that Friday and the four teams stepped up their practices in preparation for the first games. The first match of the season was Gryffindor vs Slytherin. Wood had decided to keep her presence on the team a secret, which failed spectacularly as the entire school knew she was the Gryffindor Seeker within days of getting her broom. The other students either said she would be brilliant at it or they said that Wood would need a special team just to fly around under her with a net in case she fell.

Draco was furious at her "special" treatment in getting to fly a broom when none of the other First Years could. He swore that next year he would be on the Slytherin team and would make it his personal goal to crush the Gryffindor team, especially her. "The only way you'll get on the team is if your father buys you a place on it!" had been Ron's retort.

Minie had been huge help to Harri. Between her constant assistance in homework and studying and the book she loaned Harri, _Quidditch Through the Ages_, Harri wasn't sure she would have survived to that Sunday.

That Saturday would live forever in Harri's memory. It was a crisp, clear, cold day and she was so nervous the thought of breakfast made her blanch.

Ron and Neville tried to get her to eat something, even toast, but Harri couldn't even manage that. She was just glad that she didn't have any potions that she absolutely had to take! She was sure they would have come right back up.

The game itself, however, was just as much fun as she had expected. Once she took to the air, all her anxiety and fears disappeared. Oliver had merely told her to search for the snitch and ignore the rest of the game, but that quickly became boring. Lee Jordan's commentary was a hoot, and, clearly, Professor McGonagall wasn't nearly as upset with him as she pretended or she would have tossed him from the announcer's booth the previous year. Idly, Harri watched the game a quarter of the way between the Gryffindor goal posts and the Slytherin, glancing around searching for the snitch at frequent intervals.

But flying was more than just floating on a broom high up in the air. Bored, she strengthened the sticking charm she was using, then waited until the Slytherins were almost at the Gryffindor goal posts. Then she tilted her broom down and blasted forward at full speed pushing the Nimbus to its best speed.

Lee was the first to notice, "Wait, has Harri seen the snitch? She's diving almost straight down…." The rest of what he said she lost in the whistle of the wind past her ears as she plummeted towards the ground at breakneck speed, going faster and faster. She shot in front of the Slytherin Chaser with the Quaffle and destroyed his concentration just seconds before he threw the Quaffle. He threw the ball wildly, not even coming close to the goals.

Harri pulled up just inches from ground and shot across the pitch, losing speed until she was almost at a standstill under the Slytherin goals. The Slytherin Seeker had taken off towards Harri when she first started her dive and had overshot the Gryffindor goals as she realized Harri had been fooling her.

"A beautiful bit of interference from the Gryffindor Seeker, Harri Potter, the youngest Seeker in a century! Oliver recovers the Quaffle and passes it to Alicia Spinnet, who dodges a Bludger…"

Harri pulled up her broom and shot up at a steep angle, regaining her lost altitude and again cutting in front of a Slytherin Chaser and interfering in his attempt to gain the Quaffle.

Once more high above the game she looked around carefully for any sign of gold, seeing only brief flashes of reflected gold from people's watches and jewelry.

Terence Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker, glared at her, perhaps thinking he could scare her. Compared to her Uncle Vernon or Aunt 'Tunia, his glare was nothing to cause concern. Harri easily ignored him.

Then she saw it, a hint of gold at the foot of the Slytherin goal posts. She drifted sideways while pretending to look at her shoe and rubbing it with her hand, and instead getting a good look the snitch floating just inches above the ground. She glanced over at Higgs. He was watching the game. She started dropping straight down. She waited until she was below his eye level, then flipped her broom bristles up and again dove to the ground.

The snitch seemed to notice her and darted away from the Slytherin goals and towards the middle of the pitch.

Harri steepened her dive and tried to go faster.

"Harri's diving to the ground again, has she seen the. . . YES, there's the snitch almost at mid-pitch on the grass. . ." Lee exclaimed.

Alerted by Jordan's announcement, the Slytherin Seeker immediately dove to intercept the snitch. By the time he had seen the snitch he had wasted his advantage of being closer.

The snitch abruptly took off sideways, and both Seekers adjusted their directions to follow. The winged golden sphere reversed directions and headed back towards the Slytherin goals. Harri flipped upside down and then back upright and pulled her broom up to flatten her dive into horizontal dash to follow the snitch. Higgs, coming in from a different direction, had to swerve to avoid a player, but still ended up almost even with Harri. The snitch curved up in its flight and the two Seekers followed, Harri just inches ahead of Higgs. She hunched lower to her broom and tried to force a tiny bit more speed out of her broom. She reached out to grab the snitch. . . .

WHAM! Something slammed into Harri from the side, knocking her into Higgs and causing them both to careen wildly across the pitch almost flying into the students in the stands. The Slytherin Captain had crashed into her! If not for her sticking charm, she undoubtedly would have been thrown from her broom and severely injured.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors as the stands erupted into rage at the blatant foul.

By the glare he was giving the older student Harri could see that Higgs was as upset as she was at his Captain's interference.

Nothing much happened for the next half-hour, except Harri twice more used her dive-bomb maneuvers to interfere with the Slytherins and help her team gain a few goals. The first time, Higgs had chased after her until he realized she has having him on, again. The second time he had merely checked out where she was headed and remained placidly floating above the pitch.

She had just returned to her normal position when she saw the Snitch again. This time it was floating almost directly over the Slytherin Seeker's head! The Slytherin had taken to staying close to her near the center of the field instead of circling it or staying over by the Slytherin goals.

She kept her eyes on the Seeker while letting her broom slowing drift over towards the Slytherin. She used her peripheral vision to make sure the snitch didn't move.

"What do you want?" he sneered.

"Nothing," she answered, "just wondering if you've seen the snitch."

He stared at her, insulted. "If I had seen it, I would have it! Now clear off, muggleborn!"

She drifted a bit closer and turned to face him. He turned to face her.

"What's this?" she heard Lee say far below, "Looks like the Seekers are having a bit of a stand-off."

She grinned, and came up beside him. Now he was frowning, unsure of what she was doing. She kept her eyes on his face, as if she couldn't see the snitch floating inches over his head. She had a feeling that if she looked directly at the snitch it would immediately zip away.

"Are you sure you haven't seen the snitch?" she asked keeping her eyes on his.

"Are you barmy?"

She lunged towards him, making him shy away in reflex, swiping her hand over his head. "Because, I did, and here it is." She let him see the wings fluttering between her fingers as she held the golden object. She headed down towards the announcer's booth, triumphantly holding her hand high.

"I DON'T BELIEVE IT," shouted Jordan, "SHE CAUGHT THE SNITCH RIGHT OVER THE SLYTHERIN SEEKER'S HEAD!"

Flint, the Slytherin Captain, was furious and Harri could hear him screaming at Higgs even over the sound of the Gryffindor students celebrating their win! Gryffindor had won by two hundred and twenty points to ninety.

The celebration party in the Gryffindor Common Room that afternoon was the first time she had ever been the center of attention. And while it made her feel warm inside to have so many people coming up and congratulating her, it also made her uncomfortable being in the limelight. She tried pointing out that the rest of the team did all the hard work of battling the Slytherins, but everyone responded by saying that the team was losing until she found the snitch.

If a doll could dance, that night her dad would have done it on hearing the details of their game! Her mom was also pleased, but urged her to keep working on her studies with Minie and her other friends.

Sunday was a nice day, overall, as she basked in the glow of winning her very first Quidditch match. Sunday dinner, though, brought her into conflict with the twins for the first time.

Dinner started out okay, but partway through she heard several students start to laugh and giggle and then quickly suppress it. Curious, she looked up. Many students were taking surreptitious looks at the High Table, so she did, too. And stared. Professor Snape's hair had turned gold and his normally pasty skin colour had become scarlet — the Gryffindor colours.

He had already discovered his condition and by his glare she knew who to blame. She quickly turned and looked over to the twins. They were trying to act innocent — that is, they were not looking at the Professor at all and were sporting great big grins. They had pranked the Professor!

Suddenly furious, she stood up and headed for the two Weasleys. Ron, Nev, and Minie leaned backwards to look down the table at her as she stalked up the twins. Sensing her approach from their neighbors reactions, the twins turned. She glared at them as hard as Snape was.

"Hello to our favorite firstie," said one.

"What brings you to our end of the table?" said the other.

"We need to talk. _Now_."

Puzzled, but seeing that she was angry, they stood and stepped over the bench seats.

"Of course, Harri."

"Your wish is our command."

She led the way out of the Great Hall. As soon as they passed through the doors and were out of sight of the rest of the students, she turned and kicked the closest twin right in the shin.

"OW!" He bent over slightly to grab his injured leg.

Before the other twin could react with more than a stare, Harri stepped over and kicked his shin just as hard. "OW!" It was his turn to grab his shin.

"What'd you do that for!" they exclaimed.

"Professor Snape is my friend," she told them, the anger plain in her voice. "You will stop pranking him just because you don't like him."

"Your friend?"

"How can you say that?"

"His only friends are in Slytherin!"

"And we prank him because he deserves it!"

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe he acts the way he does because you prank him?" she retorted.

"Nonsense, he was like this long before we arrived here!"

"The upper years will all tell you he's always been like this!"

"I don't care what he's done in the past! He's not what you think. He's my friend!"

"Really?"

"And how do you know this?"

"What has he said that makes you think he likes you?" They were very skeptical.

"He has changed my life completely, that's how! He's protected me from my relatives! I'm safe now and I won't have you attacking him because you don't like him."

"But he's always mean to us!"

"He takes points away for no reason at all, simply because he can!"

"And you egg him on with your attitude and pranks, for no reason at all but that you can!"

"He protected you?"

"From your relatives?"

She blushed. She hadn't meant to say that. "It's private, I won't say more. But I trust him with my life. And if you don't stop pranking him you won't like what I do to you! And pranking individuals to embarrass them just because you dislike them is a rotten reason to prank someone, it's juvenile, mean, and petty. A prank should be something both parties laugh at, anything else is bullying! And if you must prank someone else it should be to teach them a lesson!"

They stared at her, completely surprised at what she was saying.

"Are you challenging us to a prank war?"

"Over how we treat Snivellus Snape?"

She narrowed her eyes, "If that's what it takes, _yes_!"

They stared at each other in amazement as she stalked back into the Great Hall and returned to her dinner.

Her friends were horrified when she told them what she had said to the twins, especially Ron. "Oh, Merlin, you don't _know_ what you've done. I've been their victim for years! They never give up."

"Neither do I," was her response.

"You're just going to get into trouble, Harri, don't do it," said Hermione. "And they've got loads more experience than you do. How can you hope to beat them?"

Minie had a point, though. So, after dinner, Harri asked a portrait to request that Professor Snape meet her in his office. If she was going to be doing pranks, then she needed someone who knew far more about potions than she did.

After that, she headed over to Professor Flitwicks' office. She barely managed to make it back to her dorm before curfew. She met with each of them several times over the next few days. She even visited Professor McGonagall a couple of times.

Ron wanted nothing to do with what she planned, fearing retribution from his brothers. Hermione thought pranking was just a bad idea all around. Neville decided to follow their leads, and stayed out of it. They were her friends, they would support her, but they wouldn't help her get into trouble for no good reason.


	10. Girls Just Want to Have Fun

**Girls Just Want to Have Fun**

Three days later, at dinner, the twins discovered they couldn't stand, they were stuck to the bench. They had to slip out of their robes and trousers and escape to their dorm — fortunately, they _were_ wearing underwear. The sticking charm wore off after an hour.

The next day, partway through breakfast, their hair turned silver while their skin turned green — Slytherin colours. The colours stayed until the next morning.

Friday, their breakfast spoons and forks developed legs and mouths and spent the day following them around declaring undying love for the ones who had chosen _them_ at breakfast. The spoon gushed, "The way your tongue caressed me while eating cereal was absolutely devine," as well as many other embarrassing things during the day. Not to be outdone, the fork praised in its turn, "Your lips gently sucking my tines as you ate your eggs nearly made me swoon." The two utensils alternated speaking all day. The only times they were quiet was during class, but as soon as dismissal came, so did the perverted praise. And, the twins discovered, the silverware was too darned fast for them to hit with a vanishing spell. They both ended up with a detention for repeatedly casting spells in the halls while trying to destroy the metal pests.

Harri noted that many students gave their silverware horrified looks and selected finger foods for lunch and dinner. A few seemed to delight in freaking out their neighbors with extravagant displays of licking and sucking their utensils, mostly fifth, sixth, and seventh year witches tormenting their boyfriends. A couple of wizards did it, too.

Saturday, after their Quidditch practice, the twins' brooms suddenly started criticizing them. "What is wrong with you," said Fred's broom, "Don't you know how to handle wood in the morning?"

"Yeah," chimed in the other twin's broom, "you would think they had never played with wood in the morning. . . ."

"And the way he sat on me was disgusting, sliding up and down without any regard for my feelings at all," continued the other.

"And his grip! The things I could say about his poor skills at handling wood!"

And it went downhill from there until the twins ran from the locker-room — grabbing their regular clothes and robes, and just bolting from the room — leaving the brooms on the floor complaining about unsatisfied they were with the twins' performance that morning. The rest of the team, howling in laughter, ended up sitting on the floor.

Sunday, Fred and George went shoeless. Their roommates spread the story that as soon as Fred put on his shoes, they began loudly proclaiming how good it felt to have Fred deep was inside them. They explained they had looked forward to this moment all night, and the wonderful feelings they got inside as he wriggled his toes was everything they had expected. Jordan told everyone the funniest bit was when Fred took his shoes off and they bitterly complained about how frustrated he had left them, and begging him to please come back and finish what he had started. George had stared at his shoes in horror and didn't even try to put them on.

Monday earned the twins 5-point losses each from Professor Snape, and a detention from Professor McGonagall, for repeatedly breaking dress-code by not wearing their robes during regular classes. Unfortunately, they discovered too late that their robes had been spelled to be invisible to everyone except themselves and each other.

Tuesday, in Transfigurations, their desks suddenly came to life and galloped out of the classroom and down the halls with them stuck in place. After the first few minutes trying to break the spells, they gave up and turned it into a race with each urging his desk to go faster. When the spell collapsed fifteen minutes later in the dungeons, the two were breathless with laughter. They earned another several detentions from Professors as they stampeded by them.

Wednesday they stumbled into breakfast, explaining that they couldn't see themselves and thus didn't know how close their toes were to table and chair legs. Breakfast itself was a challenge as they kept knocking things over as they misjudged their hands' positions. Fortunately for them, when they reached their first class they discovered they could see themselves again and could take notes and do other things. However, as soon as they left the class they disappeared to themselves again.

Thursday appeared to be the final straw. The entire Great Hall fell silent as the twins walked in covered from head to toe in long, long hair. To add insult to injury, alternating silver and green stripes slowly rippled down their bodies in a constant movement.

It must have been dreadfully awkward putting their robes on over it all. The only way you could tell they were the twins was that the two of them were exactly the same height and they came in together. They walked up to Harri, who turned around to look at them. Before they could say anything, she said, loud enough to reach most of the Hall, "Gosh, I was told that if you masturbate too much you'll grow hair on your palms. . . just what _have_ you two been doing?"

For a moment, there was stunned silence, and then the entire hall erupted. Harri saw two Slytherins literally fall off their benches laughing.

The twins looked at each other, and Harri could see the deep sigh they each made as their shoulders rose then dropped, although she couldn't hear anything for the noise in the Hall. After a few minutes the noise died down to sporadic giggles as the students waited to see and hear what would happen next.

The twins sank to their knees and prostrated themselves. They chorused, "Oh great Pranksteress, please forgive these two lowly squibs. We will never again attempt to prank anyone you call a friend."

Fred looked up to add, "Just please tell us whom you count as a friend so we don't accidentally prank them and incur your wrath."

Harri looked at them quietly, then said, "I'm not the one you need to apologize to." She glanced up at the high table where several professors were trying to suppress smiles, including one pasty-faced greasy-haired individual who looked as if he were about to burst with the effort not to laugh in glee.

Even through the hefty amounts of facial hair, Harri could see the twins pale as they realized what she meant. They looked at each for several moments, obviously debating what to do. Finally, with an air of resignation, they started to stand.

"Crawl," Harri commanded. "You have years of accumulated hubris to atone." And leaned close to them to add in an undertone, "It will be worth it, later, _I promise_." They stared at her for a long time. She mouthed _trust me_ to them. They glanced at each other, gave an almost imperceptible shrug, and got on their hands and knees.

It was a stunned disbelieving crowd that watched as the two red-headed pranksters who had reigned supreme for years crawled their way on hands and knees to the High Table with the Firstie Harri following them. Once at the table, they stood and bowed deeply to Professor Snape. "We are sorry for all the poorly thought out and ill-advised pranks we have pulled on you over the years, Professor Snape," said Fred, loud enough for the entire Hall to hear. "Such things were an affront to your position as Head of the Slytherin House, as well as disrespectful of you as a Professor here at Hogwarts."

"While we know you won't forgive us for all that we have done," added George.

"We ask for a truce."

"We promise not to single any person out for a prank unless they have done something that truly deserves such treatment."

"And even then we will try to teach them a lesson and not merely embarrass them."

"Should it be someone from your House, we will consult with you in advance."

"Please accept our humble apologies for our past conduct," they concluded together.

They stood with bowed heads.

Professor Snape sat staring at them, sneering. Harri could see he was barely controlling his glee at his worst enemies at Hogwarts being humbled before him for all to see. Harri wasn't sure exactly what he was going to say, so she added in a soft voice that barely carried to him, "Play nice."

He glared at her. She looked back calmly. He returned his attention to the twins, nodding graciously. "Truce," he said, "And tomorrow you will have a one-hour detention with me to — discuss — how we shall go forward with this."

Harri stared at him intently.

He frowned at her.

The twins looked at the two, puzzled. There was something going on, but they were clueless.

Still frowning, Professor Snape turned his attention to his plate and ignored them.

The three students headed back to the Gryffindor table. Harri reached inside her robes and pulled out two small potion bottles. She handed one to each twin.

Taking the hint, they drank them, and gave her back the empty bottles.

"Without that potion you would have been as hairless as an egg tomorrow, and bright pink." By the time they finished dinner, the twins' had returned to their normal appearances.

She refused to answer any questions about how she had done the pranks, and who had taught them to her.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

The twins were astonished to see Harri waiting for them in Snape's Office. He sat sneering at them while Harri spoke.

"Professor Snape and I have an agreement, which I have no intention of explaining to you. The truce was my idea." She paused a moment.

"You know how everyone complains about how 'unfair' Professor Snape is, and how he clearly favors his house over all others? I asked him about that.

"Have you noticed the way Slytherin students are treated everywhere _but_ his classes? You complain about how unfair Professor Snape is in giving points only to Slytherins and taking them from the other Houses, but when was the last time you saw Professor McGonagall give points to a Slytherin? The other Houses? Yes. Slytherin? Not so much. You complain about how Professor Snape rarely criticizes a Slytherin student, but when was the last time you heard Professor Sprout compliment a Slytherin?" She stopped and looked at them. "Professor Flitwick is the only Professor I've heard give points to Slytherin for anything. And if you checked the record you'd see that Ravenclaws seem to fair better in Professor Snape's classes than the other two houses."

They both wore frowns, "Well, there was the time that. . . no, that's not right. Then there was. . . no, not then either," said Fred. He turned and looked at his brother.

"I'm drawin' a blank, too," said George.

"So, perhaps there's a reason for his blatant favoritism, right?"

They slowly nodded.

"Here's my idea. Professor Snape — and as he put it, 'against his better judgment' — has graciously agreed to reduce the obvious favoritism in his classes, but only if he sees an equal drop in the other classes. That means you two are going to start drawing attention to when Slytherin students are cheated out of points. I will do the same in my classes."

The discussion lasted for well past the deadline set for the twins' detention, but they didn't seem to mind. Professor Snape was still sarcastic, but nowhere near the levels the twins were used to hearing in his dungeons classroom and in the halls.

They were stunned when at the end of the meeting, Professor Snape handed them a parchment as Harri explained, "That's the potion we used on you yesterday. And the antidote."

"Having a world-class Potions Professor available to review your new potions and help work out the kinks before you use them could be quite helpful," she added as the twins left the office. They hesitated before closing the door and returning to their dorm.

She turned back to the Professor. "Thank you," she said, "If we can get your Slytherin students to tone down their attitudes, we might be able to pull this off." She didn't bother going back over their previous conversations, he remembered them as well as she did.

She had pointed out that it was better to co-opt an enemy into being an ally than to leave him far away and unsupervised. And that making enemies of three-quarters of the population was just plain _stupid_.

Plus, the twins were actually quite good at potions. With a little effort, he might get them to assist him with some of his more complicated potions in exchange for the experience. Or get them to grade some of the first and second year assignments in exchange for his advice on their potions. The papers they did, the more time he would have for other pursuits. And their unorthodox thinking might give him insights he might miss in his own research.

Not to mention that if he did any of those he would never have to worry about pranks in his classes. The twins wouldn't want to jeopardize their access to his knowledge.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

On the fifteenth, a Friday, she received an owl from her solicitor. Her income had dropped off dramatically. Not unexpected, given that the peak selling season for Hogwarts students was July and August. It was still a respectable amount, though, consisting mainly of sales from the new store in Hogsmeade, almost fifty galleons total royalties just in quill sales! It seemed many of the older students wanted quills that didn't spill or splotch ink — ever-fulls were blasé. Christmas sales would make for a nice start to the next term. Tonks included a note that the twenty galleons from her part of the store profits had been retained for store operations, that she would get a payout on store profits next September.

Again, she did not get an owl from Gringotts and this concerned her. Banks are supposed to be punctual. She jotted a quick note to Tonks asking her to look into why she wasn't getting statements from Gringotts on her various accounts. The Grunnings Drills' accountants had always made a point of going over the bank deposit statements line-by-line to make sure there were no mistakes. Rarely, they found an error. But it did happen, so they checked thoroughly. She would be stupid not to follow their lead.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Christmas was fast approaching, but the winter storms and snows were already blasting the castle. Quidditch practices were grueling, requiring frequent applications of heating charms to keep the team members from getting frostbite. The cold also made it much more difficult to handle the Quaffle and bats. But Harri and the team didn't slack off.

The classes were also cold, especially Potions in the dungeons. The students became quite adept at casting warming charms on themselves and so didn't mind the cold nearly so much. Harri wondered why the Castle didn't use the heat far underground to keep the halls and rooms warm, like some muggle companies did to their buildings. It shouldn't be that difficult a charm to set up, no worse than the wards that already existed. Oh, well, maybe they considered it good magic practice for the students.

The Friday after the fifteenth, she got another owl form her solicitor. According to the letter, she should have received at least three owls from Gringotts about her finances. Each one should have arrived on the same day as the owls from Tonks. The letter said Gringotts was resending the statements. Harri waited a week, then sent a note explaining she still hadn't received anything from Gringotts. The reply came the next day. Gringotts was starting an investigation into why their owls were not arriving, but Tonks' were.

A week later, _The Daily Prophet_ featured a headline story that someone had been stealing Harry Potter's owl mail for over a decade, and people were in an uproar. Harri didn't think much about it. She didn't care, really, about the statements from her bank from the last decade. She only wanted her new statements, the ones telling her how her new investments were working out.

"That dirty rat! No wonder we never got a response to our birthday cards. That bloody bastard's been nicking 'em!" Seamus threw down his copy of the newspaper in disgust.

Ron was livid. "Poor Ginny, this is going to crush her. She used to include her allowance for the month, a whole sickle, no matter how much mum tried to discourage her, as a present to her hero on his birthday." Other students chimed in with stories of sending cards at Christmas and small gifts as thank you's for delivering them from He-Who-Must-Not -Be-Named.

"You sent birthday cards to Harry Potter?" The other student's reactions left Harri blinking in surprise.

"Of course we did! He's a hero. There's many a Wizard and Witch who know for a fact they would be dead if Harry Potter hadn't killed Voldemort. You think they wouldn't _want_ to send a thank you card on his birthday?" retorted Seamus.

"I wonder what happened to all that stuff?" mushed Harri. She hadn't seen it in her vaults, that was sure. The rest of her day passed in a daze as she tried to come to terms with the thought that people she didn't even know had sent her presents. That she never got them was immaterial to her, it was the thought that they had sent them in the first place that shook her.

_The Daily Prophet_ promised to follow the case closely.

Classes continued as always, with lots of assignments. The only real conflicts were in Potions with the Slytherins. Draco and Pansy frequently teamed up in Potions and always seemed to have the table beside Harri's. Pansy took every opportunity to belittle Harri and Hermione while Draco tormented Ron. Draco ignored Neville as Neville usually just flushed red in embarrassment where Ron, well, Ron rose to the baiting as readily as a hungry fish to an fisherman's hook.

They were now almost into the school holidays for the year-end.

"It will be such a relief to leave this dreary rock pile for home, don't you agree, Draco?" said Pansy. "I can't imagine staying here, freezing, instead of cozying up to a warm fire with my loving family, drinking hot chocolate, and going holiday shopping." She eyed Harri for her reaction. "I feel so sorry for those who are stuck here because their family doesn't want them. Or they're too poor to pay the miniscule fee to travel home."

By now the list of students staying at the school over the holiday break was out and everyone knew that the Weasley clan was staying at the school, as was Harri. The Weasleys were staying because their parents were going to Romania to visit their son Charlie.

Harri looked at the witch in surprise. Why on _earth_ would Harri _want_ to go home to the Dursley's? And poor? A vague smile touches her lips, if the stupid witch only knew!

Ron, though, was livid and barely controlling his temper. He turned towards the witch and started to move closer, "Listen, you harridan," he growled.

"Mister Weasley! Pay attention to your own cauldron, two points from Gryffindor for attempting to distract another student," murmured Professor Snape. How he had so suddenly appeared behind them, mystified the Gryffindors. Harri could have sworn he was on the other side of the dungeon. Draco and Pansy both smirked. "Miss Parkinson," the Professor continued, "pay attention to your own cauldron."

Later, in the corridor outside the classroom, Pansy started anew, "I am _so_ looking forward to _all_ the parties we'll go to over the break, Draco. Don't you?"

Draco looked at Pansy for a moment, "Oh, yes, especially the Solstice Party. It'll be so much fun to see all our friends and relatives." He turned slightly to face Harri and her friends. "And it lasts all day until midnight! A bit tiring, but more than worth it considering all the games and presents."

Ron glowered at the Draco and Pansy. Neville was looking nervous and obviously wished to be elsewhere. Hermione was looking back and forth between her friends and the other two, unsure if she should interfere. She put a hand on Ron's arm to keep him from doing something dumb. Harri wasn't sure he noticed.

Harri frowned at that. A Solstice Party? What was that? Then she smiled. "That sounds wonderful," she said. "I wonder if the Professors will have a Solstice Party here? I'll have to ask them if we can have one if they don't usually. And just imagine, we won't have all those adults telling us what to do and when to do it!" The students had learned early in the year that the staff attitude was "hands off" for most activities in the Dorms, with just enough supervision to tell them to go to bed when it became late.

The Slytherins stared at her, confused. They weren't used to a victim agreeing with them. It took all the fun out of taunting.

"And I would think that going to party after party would get boring, actually," Harri continued. She remembered how much Dudley had hated his parents dragging him to parties with the sole reason for his presence being that they wanted to show him off to their _friends_. Or worse, people they wanted to impress. "Especially those parties where you get dressed up in uncomfortable, stiff formal clothes, and have to act like the _perfect_ child, sitting quietly for hours on end as the grownups talk about boring stuff like politics or business." She paused.

Draco and Pansy both glared at her. She had hit a soft spot. Ron and Neville were staring at her in amazement. Minie was just looking back and forth, worrying her lip with her teeth.

"And dinner parties! My cousin hated those with a passion. Stuck sitting at a table for hours with nothing to do! Eating those strange things adults like that taste just yucky. How many of your holiday parties are dinner parties?" She paused again, but not long enough for either of the Slytherins to reply. "Personally, I'm looking forward to being here at the castle with my friends. We're going to explore every nook and cranny, eat when we want, sleep when we want, play when we want. And we can stay awake all night for New Year's if we want. It'll be a mini-vacation without parents to screw around with us telling us we can't do one thing because they made plans for us to do something else that's totally boring!"

The two Slytherins stared at her stonily, and then turned and stalked off.

"Harri!" said Ron, "That was brilliant!" Neville nodded in agreement. They, too, usually had formal parties to attend during the holidays, and knew exactly what Harri meant about parents making plans for them.

The quartet headed for the Great Hall where Hagrid proudly showed them the trees he had brought in and how the Professors had decorated the hall.

"I just wish you could be here too, Nev, Minie," said Harri. "Which holidays do you celebrate Solstice and Christmas, Neville?"

"We celebrate Solstice and New Year's," the pudgy boy replied. "Gran and I usually spend them with our family. Gran's not very big on parties, you see. We do go to a few though. And you're right, their usually monumentally boring. And I just hate the ballroom parties! _Dancing_." He shuddered.

Harri thought dancing might be fun. Maybe she could talk Ron into showing her what he knew. "Maybe you can get your Gran to let you visit us here for a few days."

Neville perked up at that thought.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Hogwarts felt strange being so empty after everyone else left. Ron and Harri had no problems adapting. They spent their time, as she had said, exploring the castle — they had made a primitive map and added things as they found them — eating whenever the mood struck, sleeping late, sitting in front of the Common Room Hearth in the most comfortable chairs usually occupied by the senior students, and talking. Ron taught her chess, which she was absolutely rubbish at, even with the handicaps Ron gave to her. She would never be as good as him, but it was fun learning.

Harri loved listening to Ron's stories about his family. Occasionally, the twins would join them to add stories of their exploits. The twins were gobsmacked when she finally told them that Professors Snape, Flitwick, and McGonagall had helped her with her pranks. She had done the work, but they had taught her the charms and potions.

She didn't tell them that some of the pranks had been her Dad's ideas, especially the really rude commentary. Her Mom had been displeased about the language, but couldn't help adding a few suggestions herself once they got into the details. The tipping point had been that the purpose of the pranks was to get the twins to change what they did and were not simply to be mean.

She and Ron visited the Clubroom several times, usually to do research on the papers they had due after the holidays — but at least they didn't have to sandwich the homework between other obligations like parties and family visits.

The Clubroom bookcase was just so much more useful than the library. It seemed to have more books than the library. Harri also used it learn new spells. She found a charm that would make an object glow, get warm, or turn a color when an animagus wizard or witch was in the same room or within fifty feet. She cast it on a galleon that she sewed inside her skirt waist. She found similar charms for detecting Notice-Me-Not and invisibility spells. One thin book she found, titled simply _Blood Magic_, had details on how to use one's blood to increase the power or longevity of almost any spell. She decided she needed to get a ring with three stones in it that she could wear, or maybe three thin rings that fit together. She would cast one of those detection spells on each stone. It would be much easier and more convenient than trying to keep track of galleons or other items.

Sadly, there were only thirteen students staying over the holidays. As a result, the Headmaster vetoed the idea of a Solstice or Christmas party. Instead, he said he expected them to join everyone in a dinner feast on those two days. Any exchanging of gifts would be private affairs. He did, though, suggest a few reference books about the Solstice celebration to her.

Christmas morning arrived bright and early, with her waking before the sun rose.

She stared at the pile of gaily-wrapped boxes at the end of her bed. She crawled down the length of her bed to look at it. Hesitantly, she picked up the package on the top. It didn't have a tag, scrawled across it was, "To Harri, From Hagrid." She stared at it for a long time. She had presents? She slowly and carefully peeled the wrapping off to see a handmade wooden flute. She cried. She couldn't help it. Someone cared enough to send her, _her_, a present. And not just any present, but one they made by _hand_! Hagrid was truly a friend.

Harri, of course, had been very careful to make sure she bought gifts for her friends. Now that she had money, and someone trustworthy, she could make a list, supply money, and expect that things would be done. Her solicitor had made her purchases for her, and delivered them to the proper people. Harri, however, hadn't expected anyone to send _her_ a present.

She had learned, from watching her aunt, to divide presents into three categories: those for family, which always were carefully considered; those for friends, which required paying only a little attention to make sure you didn't get them something they hated; and business, which usually meant liquor or business related items.

For her friends, Minie, Ron, Neville, and the Weasley twins, she had purchased wand-holders just like hers. After the troll incident, she didn't want to take a chance that any of her friends wouldn't have their wand immediately at hand. For everyone else in her year she had given a box with Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Cauldron Cakes, and Licorice Wands. For the Gryffindor students not in her year, she had just given them Chocolate Frogs. Hagrid had been the hardest, but she finally settled on a gift certificate to his favorite Pub in Hogsmeade.

Andromeda Tonks, her solicitor, had handled everything for her. All she had to do was provide the list. While she was doing that, she also suggested that Tonks contact one of the broom manufacturers and set up a line of "Harry Pooter Brooms" and get them to donate new "beginners" brooms to Hogwarts to replace the aged and failing current ones, as well as four sets of high-quality Quidditch brooms for the House teams. The press exposure alone would more than pay for the brooms, and the exposure of impressionable children to their brand would reap rewards far outstripping their costs. The perfect time to announce the deal, she thought, would be in July, just as the selling season started for Hogswarts.

Plans for the "Fourth Year" Quills were set, and would include spells to let you cut, copy, and paste letters and words. It was just a matter starting production in the summer. The new-product announcement and advertisements would hit in July and August.

Hermione's present to Harri was a package of three pairs of new Witch knickers. Ron had given her three chocolate frogs and a stack of four hundred and twelve collectable cards in prime condition. Neville's present was a black ink-bottle for her never-out-of-ink quill and a thick roll of parchment. She found herself crying after opening each present. The only present she didn't cry over was the one from the Dursleys, a grey skirt and blouse combination, and a Gameboy from Dudley — those she set aside in amazed surprise.

She was stunned to see that Ron's mother had sent, to her, a complete stranger, a hand-knitted emerald green sweater and a box of home-made fudge! Harri didn't know what to think about that. She took back all the rude things she had thought about the woman.

There were another dozen presents from her Dorm mates, mostly candy.

One mysterious present had a cloak in it of some strange silvery cloth. It was only when she put it on that she discovered it made her invisible! The included note didn't clear up the mystery, but did say it used to belong to her Dad. She would ask him tonight if he knew who might have sent her the cloak.

As she had seen her aunt do, she made a list of who had sent her a present, so she could thank them later. If someone cared enough to send a present, then she wanted to make sure she let them know how much she appreciated the thought.

She grabbed her new knickers, sweater, and the cloak to show Ron in the Common Room. When she got down there, his brothers were already in attendance and showing off their presents. She decided to show Ron the cloak later, in the Clubroom.

Ron told her his mother had sent the sweater because he had mentioned in a letter that Harri didn't expect anything for Christmas. As a result, his mother had sent Harri a sweater because no child should go through Christmas without presents.

Her gifts of wand holsters to Ron and the twins had left them nearly speechless. Percy had been envious but had joined his brothers in thanking her profusely.

He refused to let her model her knickers for him in his dorm room when she suggested it in a whisper. He was afraid of the trouble he would get in if one of his brothers wandered by. The charm on the staircase that prevented boys from using it to get to the Witches Dorm prohibited the use of her Dorm. "Clubroom, later," was his suggestion.

Breakfast in the Great Hall was fabulous, with loads of party favors that likes of which Harri had never seen or heard.

The rest of the morning and afternoon she spent with Ron's family at the Gryffindor table and running around in the Great Hall. She even managed to get Percy to play a few games with her on a new chess set that she got. She also told them what she knew about Fluffy and what he was guarding. Percy was horrified, both at the presence of the three-headed dog and the Philosopher's Stone, opining that the Stone might be safer with the Unspeakables at the Ministry. Fred and George quickly disagreed, and the argument raged for a while. Percy, she decided, like Hermione, had far too much faith in authority.

Then she told them about how she always had a headache after one of Professor Quirrell's DADA classes or when she met him in the halls.

Dinner was as much fun as breakfast and left them too stuffed to do more than head back to their dorm to sit around and talk in front of the fire.

Harri dragged Ron in a different direction as they left the Great Hall.

Fred called, "Don't do anything. . ."

". . . we wouldn't do," finished George.

Harri turned and walked backwards while giving them a ripe raspberry.

Ron mumbled, "Well, that doesn't leave much not to do, does it?"

"Come on, Ron, you won't believe one of the presents I got!"

As soon as the door closed, she pulled the cloak out of her purse.

"Blimey!" he exclaimed, "An invisibility cloak. Those are as rare as hen's teeth and a thousand times more expensive!"

They played with the cloak for a few minutes and discussed how useful it would be for sneaking around after curfew, not that they did much of that, but still!

After stuffing the cloak back into her purse, Harri spun on her toes, and ran to the platform. "Come on, hurry, I want to try on the new knickers! I can't wait to see them move!" As Ron walked over, she opened the package and took out the first pair. The package was Quidditch-themed and this pair had a dozen or so Snitches. She dropped the other two on the platform, and quickly shoved down the ones she was wearing, unbuttoning and dropping her skirt at the same time. She kicked off the old ones and lifted her foot to slide on the new knickers. She had pulled the new knickers up to her knees when she realized that Ron had stopped moving and was staring at them. She looked again, but the Snitches weren't moving yet. She looked back up in time to see him flush bright pink and turn his back to her.

"Is something wrong, Ron?"

"Uh, no," he replied, his voice sounding choked.

"Well, then, turn around."

"Are you wearing the knickers yet?"

She pulled them all the up, "Yeah."

He turned to face her, managing to look relieved and disappointed at the same time.

With Harri standing on the small platform, it put her knickers at about eye height for Ron if he stood beside it. She tied her blouse tails at her waist. They both watched the Snitches flying around for a minute, Ron's color slowly returning to normal. Harri did so enjoy watching the animated creatures flying around on her knickers, and she wanted to share that with others.

"Hand me the next pair," she ordered Ron. He turned and bent down to pick up one of the two, not noticing that she was sliding down and dropped the pair she had on to her feet as he did so.

Straightening, he turned to hand the next pair to her. "Ulp," he said as he suddenly realized his nose was nearly in a part of her anatomy that he hadn't expected to see exposed. Turning as red as his hair, he spun around to face the other way and held the knickers over his head for her to grab.

"Something wrong?" she asked, taking the knickers from him.

"Uh," he said, "you really shouldn't stand naked like that around wizards."

"Why?" she asked, her tone clearly conveying she had no idea what he meant. "And I'm not naked, I still have my blouse on."

"Um, well, uh, yeah," he stammered, "It's just not done. Blimey, you're not supposed to let wizards see that part of you, it's just not done. Some wizards will get the wrong idea if you do that."

"What do you mean?" Harri was confused. None of the men she had met at the hotel, many strangers, had ever batted an eye at seeing her naked, in fact they had expected her to be naked. Why should her friends be concerned that she was naked in front of them? They were her friends, after all.

"Well, um, they'll stare at you because most witches never let wizards see them naked, except maybe their boyfriend or husband."

Harri stood thinking, the forgotten knickers dangling from her fingers. If most wizards had never seen a naked witch, then they _would_ stare at one who was naked. That made sense. Seeing something you had never seen before resulted in staring. And the few times one of the men at the hotel had brought along a son, "to give him some experience," the boys had practically never stopped staring at her.

"Also," Ron continued hesitantly, "Most witches would be embarrassed if a wizard saw them like you are now."

That, Harri simply did not understand. Embarrassed simply because someone saw them without clothes? Why?

That last thought she must have said out loud, she realized, as Ron answered, "Because they're not supposed to let wizards see them naked."

"That makes no sense!"

Ron shrugged.

"I mean, that would be like saying you would be embarrassed if I saw you naked!" God knows, she had seen enough naked men that seeing another was nothing special.

He didn't reply.

"Would you?"

She saw the back of his neck flush. His face must be beet red, she realized, for a blush to reach that far! "Why?" she asked, puzzled and even more confused. None of the men she had seen over the years had ever been embarrassed to be naked in front of her. Most had seemed most proud, even the grossest ones, as if she should be impressed because they had willies that stood up.

He just stood there.

"Come on," she coaxed quietly, "Why would you be embarrassed to be naked in front of me?"

"Because!" He was clearly flustered and didn't know what to say.

"Because why?"

"Because!" He was getting even more flustered.

"Ron," she said, in a reasonable tone, "I really don't understand. Please, why?"

He stood quietly for a few moments, sighed deeply, then, almost shouting, said, "Because you might laugh, okay?" He paused, then whispered, "Or be upset that I had a. . . you know."

She sat on the platform edge, sighing. "Ron, turn around." He didn't. "Ron, you're my friend, just like Minie, Nev, and Hagrid. I would never laugh at you just because you were naked." She paused. "Well, not unless you did something like paint the Union Jack on your ass, painted your willy to look like a Barber Pole, or did something else equally silly. Now, turn around and look at me. You're completely dressed and have nothing to be embarrassed about."

He slowly turned around, his head down until he realized he was looking at her naked crotch, then he jerked his head up and look in her eyes.

"That's better." She watched his blush slowly receded. "Ron, I don't care if you see me naked. I don't care if you look at me naked. Look all you want. I'm your friend. I trust you. Heck, if you really haven't seen a naked girl before, here, take a gander." She quickly slipped out of her blouse leaving her completely nude.

Ron gaped at her, quickly acquiring the deer-in-headlight look.

She grinned, it was rather funny how boys did that. She looked down at her chest and sighed. They weren't very big, barely as large as hens eggs. She put her hands under them and lifted slightly. "I really don't like my tits. Ever since I got them, they would just use them as something to grab and pull me around. Or bite them. Or twist." She let go and rested her hands on the platform beside her knees. "I wish I didn't have them at all. But, what're you gonna do? I can't get rid of them. And from what I've read, they're only going to get bigger as I get older." She sighed.

She noticed Ron wasn't looking at her tits anymore; he was looking in her eyes, frowning. "Who would do that," he asked, hesitantly, "bite them, I mean."

She blinked at him. "Men," she said finally, "but I'd rather not talk about that." She looked up at the clock for a minute.

"But you can look," she continued. "You can even touch them if you want, I don't mind. Just be gentle, they're sensitive. Just imagine what it would be like if someone grabbed your nuts and squeezed."

The young wizard blinked several times, and then hesitantly lifted a hand to stroke a finger down the side of one breast. He cupped his hand and fondled it for a moment. Then he stroked his thumb across the nipple a couple of times.

"Blimey. That. . . feels. . . really nice," he said softly. "What's it feel like to you?"

She reached out and ran her hand on his other arm. "What's that feel like?"

"Like someone's hand rubbing my arm."

"Nothing special, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, there's your answer."

"Oh." He looked at his hand on her breast. He raised his other hand and started playing with her other breast. "Wow."

She looked down between them, and grinned. He must like what he was seeing and doing because something was making his pants tent out. And she knew what it was. But this time, she could say no. She needed neither Mum's Confidence nor Dad's Consequences.

"Well, anyway," she said standing up, "let's get back to the knickers."

He watched as she put on the knickers, although his face flamed red the entire time and he kept looking away and then quickly looking back.

The knickers were of Quidditch Witch Beaters hitting Bludgers back and forth. They tried to dodge, but Ron and Harri managed to corral them all on the front. The last knickers featured Quidditch Witch Chasers after a Quaffle.

They left for the Gryffindor Dorm a few minutes later, because, as Ron said, "We don't want the twins to get it into their heads to look for us."

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

The next day, after reading one of the Solstice books in the Clubroom, Harri decided to wander a bit by herself. Ron was off doing something that his brothers had insisted he do with them. She thought about what she might want to do to celebrate the Solstice next year. Then she found the odd mirror in a deserted classroom far from trafficked areas.

Expecting to see herself, she instead saw a naked boy. After a moment, she realized it was her, green eyes, lightning scar, glasses, and short hair. Slowly, other people began to appear, except they were dressed. First were a man and a woman. It took her a minute to figure out they must be her real parents — the woman looked like an older version of her without glasses but with green eyes. She kinda resembled Aunt 'Tunia. Harri could see that she got her hair and complexion from the man. Then Hagrid appeared. Then Hermione, Ron, and Neville. Eventually the mirror was filled with people, all laughing and waving at her happily.

Waking the next morning, she realized that for the first time in ages she hadn't had a nightmare. She woke from a dream that left her warm and happy.

The next day, after breakfast, she had dragged Ron with her to see the mirror. He had seen himself as a Quidditch Captain, Headboy, and an all-around wildly successful person, with his family standing around him in awe. That was when she noticed the odd writing around the rim and they discovered that the mirror showed them what they _desired_ and not reality.

Reflecting on that, it made sense. In the mirror, she was a naked boy to prove that she wasn't merely cross-dressing. Being a boy, after all, was what she wanted more than anything. Moreover, wanting family and friends, of course, would be part of almost anyone's future desire.

She returned a few more times over the next week to look at her parents, until the Headmaster caught her at it. It was gone when she checked the next day.

Ron was fascinated with breasts, Harri discovered. He had asked her several times, very politely, if he could "see" them again. She had indulged him in the Clubroom, and let him fondle them for while each time. She didn't see the appeal to them, herself, but if it made him happy, why not? He was her friend and it didn't inconvenience her at all, she just thought about the spells she was researching and learning.

The last day before the students returned, looking at his tented pants after one such session, she asked, "You obviously have an erection, why don't you masturbate?"

He had gotten all flustered and upset, pretending he didn't know what she meant.

"Oh, come on Ron," she had said, "Everyone masturbates, it feels too good not to. I started when I was eight."

"You. . . _masturbate_?" Ron had a hard time actually saying the word, it came out almost as a whisper.

"Sure, most girls do. Some don't because they don't discover how good it feels until they're older." She paused. "I. . . discovered it. . . quite young." She didn't want to talk about that. Ron hadn't said much as they walked back to the Great Hall for dinner.

Overall, Harri decided that this had been the best Christmas she had ever had.


	11. Appearances Are Deceiving

**Appearances Are Deceiving**

The end of the holidays in early January brought a renewal of the rounds of classes, assignments, and Quidditch practices for Harri, with only an hour or two a day — if even that — for relaxation. Sadly, she had to reduce her flute practice to once a week, when she could manage it, to when she visited Hagrid. Her dorm mates found her practice hard to take, but Hagrid was an appreciative audience.

Classes had been going for almost a week when, after dinner, Hermione had said, "Harri, we need to talk, okay?" And nodded her head sideways at the Common Room door. They had decided not to mention the Clubroom for fear someone might overhear and want to know about this "clubroom." So, they just talked around it, instead, using hand or head shakes to indicate there was more to what was said than appeared.

"Sure." And the two headed over to the Clubroom.

Moments after they arrived, Ron and Neville came in. The three looked at each other, then at Harri. The green-eyed witch began to suspect something more at hand than simply Minie wanting to talk. Was this a time for Consequences? She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath to prepare for whatever the other three were about to spring on her. She walked over to the corner couch and sat down. Guardedly, she asked, "What's up?"

The other three joined her, sitting on the other half of the couch with the bushy-haired girl closest, and looking determined. Ron looked guilty, Neville was just nervous. This wasn't looking good for Harri.

"Harri," Hermione started, looking at the two boys briefly, "We've noticed you never talk about your folks or your home very much." She swallowed. "From what little you've said, it doesn't sound like things are very good for you there. Plus, some of the things you do and say aren't, well, what we expect." She stopped and took a breath.

"Ron told us about you. . . showing him your breasts. And saying something about men hurting you."

Harri stared at her, face carefully blank.

Hermione looked down at her hands. "When Madam Pomfrey talked with us that day in the Hospital Wing, I thought something was wrong. So, I. . . got some books from the library during hols and did some research." She looked back up at Harri, regretfully. "You show the classic signs of someone who has been severely abused for a long time. They're obvious once you know what to look for."

Harri's feet were cold. She stared at Hermione's knees. They were nice knees. What should she say? What could she say? Deny it? No, couldn't do that, that was lying and Consequence knew well enough that getting caught lying made the penalties much, much worse.

"What the books I read say is that it's better for you to talk out what happened, that to try to keep it all bound up inside you will just tear you up inside. It'll build and build and build and then one day you'll just explode. And you might not be able to put the pieces back together again. By talking, you're letting off the pressure."

Harri's hands were cold, too. In fact, she was cold all over. How could she talk about it? They would hate her if they knew. Sure the men and women at the hotel had liked her, too, but not as a friend. They had liked her for her easy compliance with what they wanted. Her as a person they had no interest in at all. She had overheard them many times talking when they thought she wouldn't hear or was asleep in exhaustion. And what they said wasn't nice at all. And had reinforced what Uncle Vernon had always said. She was a vile person, not fit for being in the presence of _normal_ people.

"The books also said one big fear is discovery, the fear that if others knew what had happened to you that they would judge you as worthless, as less than a person, as if you somehow deserved what happened to you. The fear that all your friends will just leave you."

Harri was barely breathing, it took all her effort to force air in and out. _Here it comes_, she knew, _get prepared_, she thought. It was a wonderful four months, two weeks, three days, and eighteen hours, but it was over now. Time to get used to being alone again, except maybe Hagrid. Hagrid wouldn't leave her. She hoped. Maybe she was having a nightmare? Could that be it? Yeah, a nightmare! She sternly ordered herself to wake up.

"We're your friends, we won't leave you." Hermione leaned forward and grabbed Harri's hand.

Harri's hand was so cold that Hermione's hand felt hot, almost burning hot. _What?_ Consequences was shocked.

"You're my friend, Harri. You're the first true friend I've ever had. You fought a _troll_ for me. I will never leave you. Believe me! No matter what you do, I will stay right there with you. And so will Ron and Neville — they fought the troll, too, when they could have just gone back to the Dorms. But they went looking for you and me because they're our _friends_, your _friends_."

Harri's eyes were watery, there must be something in the air irritating them. She must be hallucinating. She couldn't have heard correctly, she must have misunderstood. They _weren't_ leaving?

"You don't have to tell us if you don't want to, we just wanted you to know that you're our friend and. . . if you do want someone to talk to, well, we're here. We want to help you, just like you want to help us, even if that's only listening while you talk. What happened to you wasn't your fault, and we know it. We're here for you when you're ready to talk."

Harri wiped at her eyes. She was not crying. She wouldn't. She had had enough crying this year already. She had cried more in the last six months than in the previous six years. Maybe she wasn't hallucinating. Or dreaming.

"The books said that it is easiest to start with something simple and unimportant, just to get started. You don't have to say anything now, if you don't want. I know we sprang this on you suddenly, but we wanted you to know you can depend on us when you need it. And that whatever happened to you won't change our friendship at all. Ever. Okay?"

Harri nodded, and clutched Hermione's hand.

"And we know you don't want to talk about it, but you really should, for your own good. Okay?"

They sat in silence for a while. Harri heard the boys shift positions several times, but she couldn't get herself to move. What could she say that wouldn't drive them away in horror? While Minie _said_ they wouldn't leave, once they heard about all the things she had done, how could they _not_ want to leave in disgust? What she did had disgusted even the men and women in the hotel, and they avoided her like a leper on those rare occasions she saw them in the hotel lobby. They all pretended she wasn't even there when she was in front of them. Even TFS had made her walk several steps behind him in an effort to get people to think she was someone merely headed in the same direction and not related to him at all.

"Hugs," Harri finally whispered.

"Hugs?" questioned her best friend, giving a puzzled look to the boys.

"They never hugged me," Harri whispered. Held her down, held her up, held her against the wall, trapped her in place, lay on top of her until she could barely breath, all those things, yes, but actually just hugged? Never. And anytime anyone did hold her in what might be called a hug it soon led to things she didn't want to remember.

Hermione didn't pause, she scooted quickly over to the green-eyed small girl and practically pulled Harri into her lap, wrapping her arms around her and holding her.

Harri sat stiffly, not knowing what to do next. Hesitantly, she placed an arm around Minie's neck and cautiously leaned against her.

Normally, whenever she was in this position, the other person played a bit with her breasts and then reached between her legs to play there. Just sitting here, doing nothing, was. . . strange. And, kinda nice. She relaxed a bit more and closed her eyes. Harri missed Hermione signaling the boys, practically ordering them to _get over here!_

The first Harri realized the boys had moved was when Nev settled to Minie's right and awkwardly wrapped an arm around Harri while pressing against her back. Unlike other times someone had done something similar, he just rested his hand on Minie's upper arm.

Ron took Minie's other side and wrapped his arm around Harri's waist. She felt as the three maneuvered around her a bit until they were all comfortable. Minie ended up with three arms around the back of her neck and hidden from view should anyone else have come into the room.

And then they just sat there, not saying a word. After a minute Harri realized she was crying again — dammit!

Eventually, Ron said, "Um, I think my arm has fallen asleep," as he pulled his arm from around Minie's neck. "Ack, pins and needles." He rolled his shoulder and massaged his arm with his other hand. A moment later Nev did the same. Hermione glared at the two boys.

"Um, yeah," mumbled Harri, rubbing her face and wiping her tears away. "I, uh, have a potions essay, uh, I need to start." She sniffed as she awkwardly slid off Minie's lap. Standing she looked at Minie and the boys through her fringe. "Um, thanks."

Minie looked up at her steadily, "Anytime, Harri, anytime." She paused, "Anytime you want a hug, anywhere, anytime, just say so. I'll never say no. And neither will they." She glared at each of the boys, daring them to say otherwise. "Okay?"

Harri looked at the clock over the invisible door, "Yeah." She went over to her desk, and pulled out a parchment and grabbed her quill. She stared at the parchment for a long time before writing the title. By the time the clock alerted them to curfew, she had managed to finish one sentence.

From the looks of things, as she put her materials away, the others had accomplished almost as much.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

The following Monday Draco hexed Neville with the Leglocker Spell. His wand being in his arm holster instead of his pants pocket had been his salvation. Instead of having to hop all the way from the library to the dorm to get someone to perform the counter-curse, he had been able to do it himself almost immediately.

It had taken Harri a short bit of research in the Clubroom to come up with a useable counter-spell to a sneak hex attack — _Imago_ —which bounced any spell that hit the charm back to the caster. It took them a couple of hours, but by the end of the next day, the quartet had charmed all their clothes.

Harri had gone one-step farther and, using what she had read in the book on Blood Magic, she had included a drop of her blood on the tip of her wand when casting the charm on her robes. She had suggested the others try that as well.

Hermione had been hesitant, "But using blood, that's Dark Magic!" That had provoked a long discussion between them on how to define Dark Magic. Simply including blood couldn't be it because most House protection Wards used blood from the owners. And they certainly were not hurting anyone else when they used their own blood, nor could it be considered Dark Magic if the purpose was for their protection! They decided Blood Magic was only Dark if the blood was taken by force instead of being offered freely, and if the intent was to harm someone else.

They decided to do a test. Harri's robe, charmed with a drop of blood, and Hermione's robe charmed without. Then they had the boys target them with harmless stinging spells. The first two hexes had bounced off the spelled robes and hit both the casters, to their surprise. The third time the boys tried they immediately moved to the side a couple of steps. The hexes had barely missed them. That was probably a good habit to get into, cast a spell and immediately move so it couldn't be sent back at you. Nor would you be where your opponent expected you to be when they sent a spell at you after blocking or dodging yours.

Hermione's charm failed the fourth time. Harri's charm successfully reflected thirteen hexes before starting to fail. The fourteenth hex had been almost a mild finger poke, the fifteenth had hurt. They all charmed their robes with a drop of blood.

The next time Draco, or any other Slytherin, tried something he, or she, was in for a very unpleasant surprise.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

_The Daily Prophet_ headlined a new story on Friday:

**Dumbledore Stole Owl Mail!**

_"It was for his own good," Dumbledore claims_

_The Ministry For Magic announced today that famed Albus Dumbledore, (Order of Merlin, First Class; Grand Sorcerer; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards; and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry — see Albus Dumbledore article inside) has been accused of stealing Harry Potter's Owl Mail for the last decade._

_Gringotts recently discovered that financial information sent to the Harry Potter last year, as per his solicitor's request, had never arrived. The Boy-Who-Lived had queried his solicitor about not receiving the expected statements. Farther investigation revealed that __**none**__ of their correspondence had __**ever**__ reached Harry Potter, or his Magical Guardian. (see article inside: Gringotts Furious at Interference in Business Mail)_

_Gringotts brought this to the Ministry's attention who discovered, in December of last year, that no Owl Mail addressed to Harry Potter had __**ever**__ been delivered to him — instead it had been redirected to an unknown third party. Only just last week was that unknown party identified: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. This reporter wonders how someone unrelated to the Boy-Who-Lived, and __**not**__ his Magical Guardian, could gain such access to another's Owl Mail (see article inside: Is your Owl Mail Safe?), even if he is the acclaimed leader of the Forces of Light._

_Chief Warlock Dumbledore denies stealing the Owl Mail, saying "I'm sure that whomever did this did it to protect the boy. Consider the times. It would have been prudent and necessary to redirect the boy's mail to a safe location to prevent (You-Know-Who)'s followers from finding and harming the boy, both by sending cursed mail and by tracking the owls to his hidden location. Look at what happened to the Longbottom's after (You-Know-Who) vanished. (see Longbottom article inside)"_

_Harry Potter's solicitor, Andromeda Tonks, response was, "While it might be true that the Owl Mail had to be screened for the boy's safety, why was the cleared mail never delivered? Harry Potter told me he __**never**__ received any mail at his home until his Hogwarts letter arrived this summer. And he has lived at the same address from November 2__nd__, 1981 until August 1__st__, 1991 when he boarded the Hogwarts Express."_

_She continued with, "What happened to that mail? Many wizards and witches, and even many children, sent cards, small presents, and money to Harry Potter. My own niece sent small gifts of four or five knuts at Christmas to thank him for getting rid of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as she believes she would have been killed if He had not been killed by Mr. Potter. Where did the money go? Where did the presents go? Were the cards and presents simply discarded in the trash or tossed in a dungeon to molder? I'm afraid that whomever is responsible for this terrible crime has much to answer."_

_This reporter can only agree. Perhaps that sad individual who betrayed not only a child's trust, Harry Potter's, but the entire population of Wizarding Great Britain, will be forced to make amends. A written apology to everyone who ever sent an undelivered letter would be a small start. A few years in Azkaban is not too severe a penalty, in this reporter's mind._

Never had the Headmaster been subject to such accusatory stares in Hogwarts. Even the other Professors were giving him suspicious and disappointed looks. _The Daily Prophet_ continued with daily updates, including one that said Owl Mail addressed to Harry Potter had started arriving at his solicitor's address. Mrs. Tonks had refused comment other than to say that they were screening the mail, and acknowledgements sent out. They would donate to charity and St. Mungos, as appropriate, any toys or gifts inappropriate for a child Harry's age or gender.

The whereabouts of mail sent before that date was still unknown.

Separately, Andromeda had sent a letter to Harri indicating that the Potter House elves were screening the mail and writing acknowledgements, using the magically copied signature from one of her contracts. Tonks and Tonks gave to the Ministry any letters and packages detected with Dark or harmful spells so they could track them back to the senders for legal action.

Why grown witches, and even a few wizards, would want to send a love charm to an eleven-year-old boy puzzled Harri's solicitor. The little Firstie sadly shook her head at reading that, she unfortunately knew all too well the answer to that question.

And, what the heck was a Potter House Elf?

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore!" stormed Professor McGonagall, "What were you thinking? How could you just take the mail and _never_ deliver it?"

Dumbledore, no twinkle in his eye this time, opened his mouth to reply. A few of the more delicate trinkets on his bookshelves started to vibrate.

"Did you think _no one_ would _ever_ notice? Did you even look at any of it? Or did you just vanish everything so you didn't have to do anything with it? Merlin only _knows_ what was in that mail!" She paused for a deep breath. "There could have been _important_ inheritance paperwork! The _WILL_ could have been in that mail!"

Dumbledore, started to say "Well. . . ." Some of the larger items in his office started to vibrate as the small ones shook violently.

"Yes it needed to be screened, but after that why couldn't it be delivered? At least the stuff that _was_ appropriate. And if none of it was appropriate, give it to _charity_ in his name!"

Dumbledore, tried to reply. His books were vibrating, some fell to the floor behind the irate witch.

"And don't say it would take _too much time_! Just hand the stuff to Gringotts and let _them_ handle it as a service to their client! They could have charged it to the Family Vault accounts, Merlin knows, the Potters were rich enough to afford it!"

Dumbledore, again tried to reply. The shelves were vibrating and more items were cascading to the hard floor of his office, those not held in place by sticking charms, that is.

"And don't you dare try to deny doing it, no one else could have done it! All you had to do was visit a few former students and ask for a favor or two, nothing big, really. And bang, of course they would be happy to help the great Albus Dumbledore. They would fall all over themselves to help their former Headmaster with such a minor task."

Dumbledore, opened his mouth to reply. The closer portraits were empty, their inhabitants having moved to safer locations as the frames began to swing wildly.

"Between this fiasco and the hell you put Harri through with the Dursleys, 'all for the greater good,' I'm beginning to have serious doubts about you. Are you _trying_ to drive the girl towards the Dark? What else have you done that's going to blow up in our faces? Mark my words, Albus, if you don't stop keeping everything secret from us things are only going to get worse. You might find that you are a worse enemy to Harri than _You-Know-Who_! Merlin! Never thought I would say _that_ to _anyone_!" There were several sharps _cracks_ as glassware around the office shattered, and frames crashed to the floor.

The irate Scottish Witch turned and stalked out the door in a towering rage, her magic crackling around her. Students in the halls scrambled to get out of her way and stared after her, wondering what could have brought the normally steady witch to such a temper.

A bemused Headmaster sat staring at his closed door, wondering how he was going to salvage his reputation and regain the trust of his friends and colleagues. He sighed and began restoring his office to its normal eccentric and pristine condition.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

_The Daily Prophet_ worried the Dumbledore Owl Mail story like a dog with a steak bone all through the next week. Then, another headline rocked Wizarding Great Britain:

**Dumbledore No Longer Chief Warlock!**

_Albus Dumbledore resigns position to devote more time to Hogwarts._

_In a stunning move, Albus Dumbledore, (Order of Merlin, First Class; Grand Sorcerer; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards; and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry — see Albus Dumbledore article inside) has resigned his position as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. In a statement to our reporter yesterday, he said, "The workload of my responsibilities as Chief Warlock in combination with my other duties has necessitated my withdrawal from that august position. It is with great pride that I look back on my achievements in that position over the last ten years. However, it is time for another to take up that responsibility."(see Chief Warlock article inside.)_

_This reporter wonders how much getting caught red-handed stealing Owl Mail from our hero, the Boy Who Lived, contributed to this sudden decision, coming as it does after a Private Session of the Wizengamot just yesterday, which other participants have indicated was called to delve into the Owl Mail Fraud case and what the Aurors have discovered. If so, then it was most likely a choice of resigning or being fired that led to the decision. In any case, it was a light penalty for such a severe transgression of the Wizarding public's trust._

_When questioned whether this was due, in part, to the accusations of Owl Mail fraud, the venerable wizard responded in the negative. He did say, however, that he was pleased to announce that the Aurors had discovered the missing mail in a Gringott's Vault, hinting that maybe the Goblins had had a hand in the mail going astray._

_A Gringotts representative hotly denied that accusation when it was relayed by this reporter shortly before she was ejected from the bank by the uncouth creatures. The Goblin stated that Gringotts always complies with all Ministry laws in regards to their clients as he escorted this reporter to the doors. Farther details on the situation in Gringotts are unavailable, although this reporter learned that the Goblins will be pursuing libel allegations against unnamed parties in the near future. (See Gringotts article inside)_

_When asked what he intended to do with the extra time he now has, Grand Sorcerer Dumbledore said he would devote his energies to running Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, of which he is the Headmaster (see Hogwarts article inside). "I cannot envision a position more important to our future than the proper care and teaching of our children," he added._

_Tonks and Tonks, solicitors for Harry Potter, indicated that the newly discovered vault mail will be examined beginning with the oldest mail first and that it would likely take months, if not at least a year, to process the accumulated mail. (See Tonks and Tonks article inside)_

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Harri had been looking forward to the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff match, which the Gryffindor's easily won. She was happy to be making a name for herself, for _her_ _accomplishments,_ and not for the fact that she was female and available if someone pleased a certain Grunnings Drills Director. Kids her age, and quite a few older ones, were bragging that they knew her, and they were writing home to tell their parents about the great Seeker, the youngest in a century, that their team had.

She had then spent the late afternoon broom flying with the older students. She planned to spend the evening after dinner celebrating in the House Common Room. It was while she was returning her broom to storage that she saw Professor Snape heading into the Forbidden Forest. Her first thought was that he was going to gather plants that were best picked in the winter days' fading light, except she noticed he had no basket or anything else to carry what he picked. Intrigued, she decided to follow at a discrete distance. Riding her broom made movement completely silent, with no worries about stepping on a twig or tripping, falling, and being discovered.

Discovering that the professor was meeting up with the DADA professor left her confused as the two conferred and then split up to return to the castle. She now knew that both Professors Snape and Quirrell were after the Philosopher's Stone. Or maybe, one was after it and the other was trying to get out of being involved. Or that one was trying to warn the other off. But which of those was it? She knew she couldn't ask the potions professor, he would simply tell her to mind her own business. And the DADA professor? She didn't like him on general principles and he gave her headaches.

She put it aside to worry later, tonight she intended to celebrate with her _friends_.

Sunday found the quartet back in the Clubroom. Hermione was busy at her desk drawing up some kind of chart and color coding it. Ron was zipping around the room, which was the size of Harri's muggle-school gymnasium, on a broom pretending he was a Chaser. Occasionally he would look back at the girls and bump into a wall. Neville was reading a book on plants, but much slower than usual. Harri wandered around the room, distracted. Finally, she called the others together and told them what she had overheard, and her confusing conclusion.

"I know Professor Snape isn't after that thing, but why was he talking like that to Professor Quirrell? I mean, if he _was_ after the Stone, why would he want someone as incompetent as Professor Quirrell to help him? And if he was trying to warn off the Professor, what makes Quirrell think he can get by Fluffy? I just don't get it."

"There has to be more than just that Cerberus protecting the Stone," said Hermione, "We need more information."

After the fiasco with Harri's Owl Mail and their experience with the Headmaster's "everything is fine" attitude, they knew he would ignore anything they said to him regarding the Stone. He would just pat them on the head, figuratively speaking, and tell them to go back to playing and studying. Professors Snape and Quirrell were right out. The other professors wouldn't be helpful, either. They would tell the quartet that this was an adult matter and take any of the concerns back to the Headmaster, and he would say "everything's fine." And they'd be back right where they were now.

Thus, the four found themselves sitting at Hagrid's table, sipping tea, and ignoring his plate of rock cakes (which, they had determined previously, really were made with rocks — he was a half-giant, after all).

"Hagrid," Harri started, "What's guarding the Philosopher's Stone? Besides Fluffy, that is. I mean a simple _alohomora_ gets the door open, and God forbid, if someone were to get past Fluffy, what would keep them from getting the Stone?" She looked up at the half-giant with what Minie had called puppy-dog eyes.

"Hurumph. Don't yer never min' about thet thar Stone. Dumbledore and the professors 'ave it well in 'and, and no wizard'll get past Fluffy, ifn thay don't know ther trick." said Hagrid. "'Sides, I don' know. 'Nd you know far too much fer yer own good anyway. 'Re ya sure you won't 'ave another rock cake?"

Harri resorted to a tactic her Mum taught her. "We don't mean anything by it, we're just curious, you know, to know who else Dumbledore trusts as much as you to guard the Stone. After all, _your_ Fluffy is the very first obstacle. And a clever one it is, it would take a powerful Wizard to get past Fluffy!"

Flattered, the big Wizard straightened his vest, and preened a bit. It wasn't often students called him clever.

"Er, well, let's see. I don' s'pose it could hurt to tell yer. . . . Well, 'sides me Dumbledore had Professor Sprout. . . Professor Flitwick. . . Professor McGonagall. . ." he ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell — an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten some'un. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

Harri looked over at Hermione. So, if Professors Snape and Quirrell were working together, that knocked two of the protections off. If either Professor knew how to control Fluffy, that meant only three were left. And Professor Snape was more than skilled enough to determine the traps set by the other professors. Whether Professor Quirrell could do the same was unknown, but with his stutter and other mannerisms, who knew if he might be able to trick the other professors into revealing things they should not?

Neville, meanwhile, had been staring the fireplace. It seemed inordinately hot, much more so than was needed. The room was almost tropical in its heat. The quartet had already shed their coats and robes, and the stout boy was worried Harri was about to start taking off the rest of her clothes.

He had walked into the Clubroom a couple of times to find Harri clad only in her small knickers and reading a book or working on an assignment while Ron sat at his desk staring at her like a moonstruck calf. Minie, on the other hand, had gone ballistic when she walked in and had seen Harri like that for the first time. Neville's desperate denials had had no consequence for the bushy-haired girl. Neville and Ron were boys and were taking advantage of Harri's sweet disposition and ignorance of normal behavior to instill bad habits just to satisfy the boys' base desires! Why boys were so interested in seeing girls naked mystified both girls, but Hermione wasn't about to let that prevent her from ripping a new one for both boys!

Complicating matters was that throughout Hermione's diatribe Harri had tried to convince Minie to strip to her knickers, too. Finally ending the argument had been Harri's totally unfair, "Aren't we your friends, Minie? Don't you trust us? Or is there something wrong with my body and I should hide it?" The compromise the two girls worked out, to the consternation of the boys, was that Harri put on her skirt and Minie took off her blouse but kept on her bra. Neither girl was happy with the compromise.

The girls noticed that both Neville and Ron, for some reason, found it inordinately difficult to work on their assignments and read their textbooks. Harri noticed that Minie's face was very red for the rest of the evening. And she kept her attention strictly on her essays, never looking up once.

That became the standard dress for the girls when in the Clubroom. The girls would come in and hang their robes on the robe tree by the door, then hang their blouses there as well. How Harri convinced Minie to do that, Nev and Ron were unsure. True, they had been there during the argument, but still, how had Harri managed to talk conservative Minie into taking off her blouse? In any case, they weren't about to object!

At first, Minie had been red-faced and hunched over each time she came in the room. But then, after getting caught up in her "lecture mode" a few times and pacing up and down the room gesticulating as she explained some point, she lost that shyness. Neville and Ron had noticed that even when she was already in the room when the other three arrived, she had already doffed her blouse and was reading or writing.

Neville didn't dare tell Harri not to do the same here because if the thought hadn't occurred to her she would take it as a suggestion and strip. "Hagrid?" he said. "Why's the fire so hot?"

Harri noticed Neville's distraction, and followed his gaze. The other two soon followed. Harri could just see a lump in the fireplace that wasn't wood. It looked almost shiny and glass-like in the flames.

"Is that an egg?" asked Hermione. "It's rather large for an egg. I don't think I've read of an egg that large. Even the ostrich eggs aren't that large. What creature would lay such a large egg?" She stared at it, thinking.

"It's nothin' to worry 'bout. Would yer like some more tea?" Hagrid said hurriedly. "'Haps 'nother rockcake?"

Hermione was looking around the large room and settled briefly on a book lying on Hagrid's bed. She tilted her head slightly to see the binding better. "Hagrid, is that a book on dragons?"

The four looked at Hagrid's stricken expression, turned to look at the fireplace, then turned back to Hagrid. "Cor! It _is_ a dragon egg," exclaimed Ron. Harri and the boys bent to look closer at the egg while Hermione looked around Hagrid's home.

"Do you know what kind it is?" asked Ron.

"When did you get it?" asked Neville.

"Who did you get it from?" asked Harri.

"Did it cost a lot?" asked Ron.

"Hagrid! You live in a _wooden house_! What are you thinking?" shouted Hermione.

"Er, well, yer see," Hagrid stuttered, "There's a funny story b'hind that."

They stared at him expectantly. "Well, er, I was 'aving a few pints at the Hogs Head in the village and got inter a game o' cards with a bloke. Think he was glad ter be rid of it, honestly." Hagrid smiled, pleased, "'e wanted ter know if I could take care 'o a dragon, and I told 'im I was Groundskeeper at Hogwarts and took care 'o lots a creatures, like hippogriffs, cerebrum, and so. Right impressed he was. Especially when I tol' 'im I raised Fluffy from a pup."

"Hagrid! You didn't tell him about Fluffly liking music?" asked Harri.

"'Course not!" Hagrid looked offended. "I told 'im I couldna' say no more and talked about the hippogriffs instead."

The quartet sat back in relief.

"But Hagrid," piped up Hermione, "What'll you do when it _hatches_? Raising dragons is _illegal_ in Britain!"

"Don't yer be worrin' 'bout that. I'll take care 'o 'im."

"Hagrid! You live in a _wooden house_! What are you thinking?" shouted Hermione, again.

Hagrid didn't seem to hear her, he just stared into the fire, grinning blissfully.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Norbert, as Hagrid insisted on naming the Norwegian Ridgeback, brought new problems to the four students. Someone had found out about Norbert and the group was on tenterhooks waiting for Hagrid's arrest for having an illegal dragon. It wasn't until the little monster bit Ron that they discovered Draco was the spy. He had visited Ron in the hospital wing solely to taunt him. They couldn't figure out why the git didn't just turn Hagrid, and them, over to the Headmaster. Fortunately, Charlie, Ron's dragon-handler brother made arrangements to take Norbert off their hands. They almost managed to get away with it, but Filch caught Harri and Hermione. They had just been about to join Ron and Neville under the invisibility cloak when Filch came up the stairs.

The point loss put Harri and Hermione at the top of the Gryffindor "most disliked list," even though the two of them were responsible for most of the points earned over the year. It was Harri's first experience with the fickle faith of the wizarding public.

It also reinforced her desires to keep her previous life secret from all. Her House was supposed to support her when she needed help. If this was the way they acted when she merely lost them points in a stupid race, how would they react when they heard about her being a whore who had bedded more men than there were boys in Hogwarts? She shuddered at the thought. The fact that Minie, Nev, and Ron's support never wavered one bit made them all that more precious to her.

But Norbert and Draco had led the two to their present predicament, meeting Draco with Hagrid almost a month later for a stint in the Forbidden Forest. Fortunately, by then the snow had melted and spring was coming. It was cold, but not freezing that night.

Harri loved the half-giant, but still, taking three eleven-year-old children at night into the forest after a creature that _killed_ unicorns? Was there anyone in the Wizarding world who wasn't as mad as a hatter? Hermione's teeth were chattering, and not from cold, and Draco looked ready to pee his pants at the slightest noise. Harri just abandoned the field to her Mum's Confidence. Let her deal with it.

The Centaurs were amazing, and completely confusing. 'Mars is bright tonight' indeed! Truly daft, they all were, even, or especially, the magical creatures. Harri remembered from her muggle school lessons that Mars was the God of War, or Conflict, but what did that have to do with something killing unicorns?

Somehow, Harri and Draco ended up together following a trail of silvery drops to a clearing. There, on the ground was a dead unicorn. There was a soft sound and. . . something crawled over to the unicorn, lowered its head, and started drinking.

Draco screamed like a little girl and bolted, quickly passed by Fang as the dog tore off into the forest like his tail was on fire. The creature looked up, but Harri couldn't see its face.

It charged towards Harri. Harri's wand was out. She was casting anything that came to mind. The pain in her head was tremendous, but Confidence let Consequences deal with that. Confidence focused on the thing coming at her. The creature swerved and dodged. An arrow flew over Harri. It barely missed the creature. The thing stopped and reversed direction. Something huge flew over Harri. The creature swiftly fled to the bushes. A centaur landed between Harri and the creature! The thing swiftly escaped into the forest and out of sight.

Firenze, after a confrontation with the other two centaurs Harri had met earlier that evening, carried Harri back to Hagrid, imparting some interesting, and confusing information. Mars again! Or was Mars their code word for danger?

Ron and Neville were waiting when Harri and Hermione returned to the Gryffindor Common Room. Well, Neville was waiting, Ron was asleep on the couch in front of the fire. It took only a short time to fill in the two boys and Minie. Four cups of hot chocolate appeared on the table beside them while she talked.

"So, you see," concluded Harri's Consequences, "It's Voldemort that's hiding in the Forbidden Forrest, and Professor Quirrell must be the one planning to steal the Philosopher's Stone."

"Don't say that name," said Ron

"Are you sure it's not Professor Snape? I mean, if anyone were to be able to do it, I would expect Snape to be at the top of the list," said Neville.

"Nope, definitely not Professor Snape," stated Harri.

"But of the two, Snape is definitely the more capable one, the more believable one," put in Hermione.

"Nope," repeated Harri. "Absolutely not Professor Snape."

Neville and Minie stared at Harri while Ron looked back and forth between them.

"Why?" asked Hermione, crossing her arms and staring at Harri defiantly. Neville and Ron nodded in agreement. "Yeah, why not Professor Snape?"

"Because Professor Quirrell makes my head hurt."

Ron shrugged, "Harri, he gives us all a headache with that garlic."

How could she explain without revealing who she was? "Because Professor Snape has helped me. A lot."

Hermione looked at Harri, "He's helped us all this semester, I've actually learned stuff in his detentions. What difference does that make? I've known plenty of adults who act nice but are really scum. Look at your relatives. They hurt you but fooled others into thinking they were nice."

Harri rubbed her forehead. Dammit. She did _not_ want to tell them her real reasons, not here, not now. She looked around the Common Room. It was almost midnight and everyone else was in bed.

She couldn't lie. "Okay," she said, "just a minute." She pulled out her wand and cast a _muffliato_ spell around them, then moved so that her back was to the rest of the Common Room while still facing her friends. If someone woke up and came down, they would only see her from the back.

"I. . . have a secret to tell. Please don't be mad. Only a very few people know my secret. The Headmaster, Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, Professor _Snape_, and Hagrid are the only people in Hogwarts who know the truth." She stopped and chewed her lower lip as she watched them. They would probably leave her in disgust when they discovered the secret she had kept from them all this time, and that she had lied to them almost the whole year. How could they stand to stay with liar like her?

They looked at each other, then back to her, waiting.

She took a deep breath and said, "I'm really Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived." She stared at them through her fringe. What would they think?

There was silence, and then Ron burst into laughter, clutching his stomach. The other two, looked at him, grinned, and started laughing, too.

Harri sighed and waited.

"You are _not_ The Boy Who Lived, Harri," said Ron when he got his breath back, wiping the tears from his eyes. "You are a girl! I know you're a girl. We've all seen you in your knickers, and if you were a boy, it would have been blindingly obvious! And my mum told me Harry was a boy, she even changed his diapers once, so she should know!"

The little girl held up her wand and said, "I swear on my magic that I am the one known as The Boy Who Lived, despite my appearance, and that my parents were James and Lilly Potter who were killed by Voldemort on Halloween night in 1981."

Her three friends stared, totally stunned, as the Wizard Oath caused her wand, and her, to glow, proving that what she said was the completely true. Ron sat straight down on the floor. All three stared at her, mouths open in astonishment.

"But. . . how?" whispered Hermione.

"I was born a boy, but the Headmaster felt it would be safer for me to appear as a girl, to through off Voldemort's followers. They would be looking for a new little boy toddler in a family, not a girl. I couldn't merely _look_ like a girl, I had to _be_ a girl, or there might have been a way to find me. The spell was supposed to wear off when I was seven, but my. . . Uncle. . . ," she paused for a breath. "He did. . . stuff that made my magic continue the spell when it should have worn off. So, now I'm a girl, and will be a girl forever. It can't be reversed. At least, that's what the Sorting Hat and Professor McGonagall told me."

"And here's the final proof." Harri held out her hand as the Potter House ring appeared. They were now all sitting on the floor, Harri still with her back to the Common Room. No one but her three friends could see what she was doing. "If I weren't Harry Potter, this ring would have killed me when I put it on."

"May I," asked Neville, raising his eyebrows and leaning forward.

Harri nodded, stretching her arm out to let him examine the ring. He lifted his left hand under hers, supporting it, and taking a close look. She saw the lions on the ring shift to glance at him, and she felt a warm glow on her finger. Her ring, somehow she knew, recognized Neville and accepted him.

Ron, likewise, took a long look. The two looked at each other for a few moments. "It's real, looks exactly like my dad's does at home," said Ron.

"My ring recognizes it as the House Potter ring," Neville said softly to the others. "Is it Lord Potter or Lady Potter?" Neville asked Harri quietly turning back to face her.

Her lips twitched. "It's Lord Potter. I know, I know. It should be Lady Potter, but according to the Goblins it has something to do with my 'magical core' being male despite my outward appearance."

They sat there thinking about the situation.

"Those trunks and quills the stores are selling?" asked Neville, "Are those yours?"

"Yes." She searched in one of her pockets and fished out a ribbon. With practiced ease, she gathered her hair and tied it into a ponytail. She tapped her glasses with her wand, making them visible, then used her left hand to lift her fringe. She gave them a lopsided grin while holding up her wand in her right hand.

"Blimey," breathed Ron, "That's exactly like the photographs!" He studied her face. "Does it hurt? The scar I mean."

"Only when I'm around Professor Quirrell."

"Glasses?" said Minie.

"Practically blind as a bat without them," said Harris as she rapidly reversed her transformation.

Hermione blinked rapidly for several seconds, then stared off over Harri's head. She was thinking, very hard. Neville was looking at either the floor or his lap. Ron just stared at her hidden scar, as if he could still see it. Nobody said anything.

Harri had her fingers crossed. They hadn't started screaming at her yet, denouncing her as a liar. The silence made her nervous. Her friends were obviously deciding if they wanted to remain friends with such a proven liar, someone who kept big secrets, and was a whore. Just look at all the trouble into which she had gotten them.

Finally, Neville stood and adopted a very formal stance and took out his wand. He bowed to Harri, "Lord Potter, House Longbottom has been allied with House Potter for over three centuries. As the Heir of House Longbottom and acting for the currently incapacitated Head of House Longbottom I offer to pledge now to continue that alliance without reservation. What say you?" He held out his wand-tip to her.

"Sure Neville, you're my friend."

"No Harri," Ron interrupted, "This is important Old Traditions stuff. You have to formally accept."

Neville was still standing, staring at her.

"Um, what do I say?" asked Harri.

Ron took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "The proper response is 'The Lord of House Potter accepts the Heir of House Longbottom's pledge of alliance and reciprocates in all particulars.'"

Harri stood, figuring this was important, and bowed back to Neville. Then she repeated what Ron had said.

"Now touch his wand-tip to yours," Ron instructed.

There was a brief glow over both wands that spread to her ring on her left hand while a similar glow extended down to a ring she had never noticed on Neville's left hand.

Ron stood beside Neville and said, "Harri, I'm not a Lord or an Heir to the Weasley House. I'm the sixth son of the family and rank at the bottom," he made a face of disgust. "However I can say that I offer to personally ally myself with the House Potter and that I will support House Potter to the best of my ability. Should you need anything I can supply, just ask. What say you?" He held out his wand.

Taking her cue from the previous oath, Harri responded, "The Lord of House Potter accepts the personal pledge of alliance of Ron Weasley, of House Weasley, and reciprocates in all particulars." This time when she touched the offered wand, the glow extended to her ring and to his heart.

Hermione had come out of her trance and quickly stood as well. "Harri, I have no House, but I also offer to personally ally myself with House Potter, that I will support House Potter to the best of my ability, and should you need anything I can supply, just ask. What say you?" She turned to Ron and whispered, "Did I say that right?"

Ron leaned close and whispered some things back to her. She blushed, then said, "Um, sorry Harri, what I meant to say was," she took a steadying breath, "Harri, I am Heiress to House Granger, and I offer to pledge the support of my House to House Potter until and unless it is abrogated" she looked back at Ron, who nodded, "by the Lord of House Granger."

Ron leaned over again and whispered some more.

"Should the Lord of House Granger," Hermione continued, "abrogate this pledge, then my personal pledge to support House Potter to the best of my ability will take its place, and should you need anything I can supply, just ask. What say you?"

Bemused at the turn of events, Harri said, "The Lord of House Potter accepts the Heiress of House Granger's pledge of alliance, or, if the Lord of House Granger," she stopped and looked at Ron, "abrogates this pledge," Ron nodded again, "then I accept the personal alliance of Hermione Granger, of House Granger, and in either case, reciprocate in all particulars." As with Ron's pledge, when Harri touched Minie's wand the glow extended to Harri's ring and Minie's heart.

They stared at each other for a few moments. "Well," said Harri, "What's all that mean?"

Ron and Neville grinned, "It means. . . ," Neville started.

". . . that we have your back no matter what happens," Ron finished, interrupting Neville.

"And vice versa," added Neville.

Harri promised herself that she would research this 'alliance' stuff. She gave them an uncertain smile.

"Anyway," said Hermione, "getting back to what started all this," she paused. "Professor Snape can't be the one going for the Stone because if he did he wouldn't have helped you at all this year because he knows you are really Harry Potter and Voldemort's enemy. If Professor Snape wanted Voldemort to return. . . ."

"Stop saying that name!" demanded Ron. Harri and Minie stared at the boy.

"If He is really trying to come back, then he'll want to get back at Harri, and Professor Snape, by helping Harri is actually hurting Voldemort."

Ron gritted his teeth, "Stop saying that name."

"Professor Snape would have been better to not do anything to help Harri, otherwise his," at this point Hermione looked at Ron, "boss might accuse him of helping his enemy."

"Right," said Harri. "It makes no sense for him to help me, because he knows I'm really Harry Potter, Voldemort's worst enemy."

"STOP SAYING HIS NAME!" yelled Ron.

Harri turned to Ron, "What, you want I should call him Vol-au-vent instead?"

"NO! But there are spells he can cast that tell him every time someone says his name!"

They stared at Ron. "What?" asked Harri blankly.

"Look, my dad told me that there are some Dark spells that you can cast, if you're powerful enough, that turn your name into a Taboo. After you cast these spells if anyone says your name you know where they are and can apparate right to them, no matter how well hidden they may be. THAT'S why the pure- and half-bloods refuse to say his name! No one knows for sure that he _hasn't_ cast those spells." Ron was breathing heavily. "So, when you say his _name_ you are _asking_ him to come after you! Only someone as powerful, or more powerful, than You-Know-Who can say his name because they aren't worried he will apparate right in front of them and _kill_ them! And I don't know about you but I am no match for that bastard!"

They stared at him a bit longer.

"Right," said Harri. "Okay." She thought a moment, mentally digesting what Ron had said. "Well, I always find it confusing when someone says You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." She stopped. "I looked up his name in a French to English book and one of the phrases I figured out was 'stealing from the dead.' Why don't we call him Old Grave-robber?"

Ron and Neville stared at her with eyes wide open. "Grave-robber?" whispered Ron. Nev started to smile. "Yeah, I could go with that."

With that finally sorted out, they started on the Big Problem: keeping Old Grave-robber from getting the Philosopher's Stone.

"Well, we know the Professors and the Headmaster are going to ignore us," started Hermione. "And there's no way any of us can stand up to an adult wizard with decades of experience in dueling."

They could all agree with that. They were just learning minor hexes. It would be years of hard work before they could begin to hope to match an adult wizard.

"We could try to get to the Stone ourselves, but I doubt any of us could disarm or evade the traps set by our Professors."

"Why not?" asked Harri. "I mean, we already know how to get past Fluffy. Why not see how far we can get? Wouldn't it be a hoot to steal the Stone before Grave-robber gets it? He'd go through all the trouble to sneak past all the traps, and for nothing!" That thought made them all smile.

They decided they would make their first attempt later that day, Saturday. In the meantime, they could barely stay awake so they headed off to their beds.


	12. All's Fair in

**All's Fair in. . .**

That morning at breakfast, the four friends decided they needed to do their planning in the Clubroom to prevent anyone from eavesdropping.

"Well, first we need something to play music." Hermione turned to Harri as she said this. "While you're okay, I don't think you want to remain behind serenading Fluffy while we go on, and neither Nev nor I carry a piano in our pockets. Ron can't carry a tune to save his life."

"Oi!" complained Ron.

"Also, we'll need a spell to lock the door behind us so that we aren't disturbed, _colloportus_ just won't do, it'll open at the first _alohomora_." She glanced at them meaningfully, "We wouldn't want Grave-robber to walk in and discover we've already cleared the first couple of obstacles for him, now do we?"

In short order, courtesy of the Clubroom's bookcase and a few carefully worded requests, they had searched for and found the two spells they needed. Harri's Confidence was eager to go. First, however, they had to spend almost four hours over two days practicing the spells to get them to work right. While Minie was going to be the one using them, they all needed to be able to do them just in case something went wrong.

Minie's whispered "_Alohomora_" got them in the room with Fluffy. Fluffy was just getting to his feet when Minie cast "_Musica delenit bestiam feram_" at him. Instantly they could hear music playing. "Mozart?" asked Neville, raising his eyebrows at Minie. "Seems to be," she replied, frowning. "I wasn't thinking of anything in particular." She turned to the door behind them and took a small bottle out of a pocket. She inserted the tip of her wand into the small bit of blood at the bottom and then inserted the tip of her wand into lock. "_Silex ferro_," she said, turning the lock into a single piece of iron. The addition of her blood meant a simple _finite incantatem_ would fail to return the solid lock to anything useful.

They walked over to the trap door, which Fluffy had managed not to fall asleep on top of, and lifted the heavy object. It took both boys to do it.

They stared into the darkness. By previous agreement, Harri took the first step into the darkness as Hermione gently lowered her with _wingardium leviosa_. Harri had her wand lit with _lumos_ and was looking down.

This obstacle was clearly the brainchild of Professor Sprout. "It looks like some kind of plant. Neville, you should take a look at it," Harri called up.

A moment later, Ron was lowering Neville. He had become quite good at that spell after the troll incident.

"It's Devil's Snare. We need a bright light or a fire to get through it. Where's the door?"

"Over there," Harri used her wand as a flashlight to point to it.

"We should have brought our brooms."

Harri could hear the chagrin in Neville's voice.

"Hey, Minie!" Harri called up again. "Can you do that blue fire ball thing you showed us last semester?"

"Of course!" came the quick answer.

"Good, let me down the rest of the way, then drop one of those into the Devil's Snare and I'll make my way to the door. Then we'll do that for Nev and Ron."

The only scary part was when Hermione had to jump and trust them to catch her. But they needn't have worried, with the three of them working together it was easy.

The door opened to a passageway. They followed it to another door that opened to a room with flying keys. They ran quickly over to the other door, to find it locked and _alohomora_ didn't work. _Accio_ failed to fetch the required key. Then they noticed the two brooms beside the door. Harri realized they had to catch a key, and it would take the quickness of a Quidditch Seeker to do it. This charm was Professor Flickwick's challenge.

Fortunately, the key they wanted was an old-fashioned ornate silver one. A dozen of the flying keys matched that description and they had to try six before they found the one that opened the door. Actually, Harri caught six of them while the one that was the correct key blundered into Ron trying to escape the Seeker. Hermione kept the ones that Harri and Ron brought to her until they found the one that opened the door. Harri made sure to shove that key deep into one of her pockets while Minie released the others.

Again, the door opened to a passage that ended in a door. That door opened to chamber with a giant chess set. Trying to sneak around or distract the pieces failed to work. Ron determined that the only way through was to play a full game.

Harri walked up to the Black King and Queen and bowed deeply, "Honorable King, Honorable Queen, we wish to examine the door on the other side. We will not leave this chamber through that door, but will return the way we came when we finish. May we examine that door? If you desire, I will swear on my magic that this is so."

For a long moment, the faceless Black King and Queen appeared to be looking at him. Then the two chess pieces turned to look at each other, although how they did that without faces Harri wasn't sure. After another long moment, the King turned back to Harri and nodded, but held up one finger on his hand.

Harri bowed a second time, and turned to her friends. "Okay, they'll let one of us go look at that door. Minie, I think you should go. You're the most observant." Hermione was at once flattered that they thought her best suited for the task and yet scared to be alone crossing the chamber.

The three stood behind the knight as the bushy-haired girl walked to the King, curtsied, then continued on across the huge playing board. She curtsied to the White King and Queen, who nodded back to her, and then hurried to the door. She spent several long minutes running her hands over the door and wall, getting down on her knees and crawling at the door's base, and peering at the doorframe and hinges. She stood to the side of the door with her back to the wall and shoved the door with her hand, opening it. Keeping her body against the wall she leaned her head into the passage and stared for a long time. She didn't want to give the idea that she was going to go through the open door by standing in front of it. Satisfied with her results, she hurried back across the room.

"It looks and feels like a normal door, there's no lock or anything on it, there's just a metal plate to push on to go through. If it's like the others, then there's a short passage to reach the next chamber and its door. Everything felt and looked the way it should, no traps or spells I could detect. The only clue I could pick up to the next chamber is that when the door was open I smelled something awful." She thought a moment. "It's something I've smelled before, but where? It's. . . where was I?" She frowned and stared at the floor. The others waited patiently. Suddenly, she gave a startled twitch. "Troll. I'd bet anything that the next room has a troll."

"Guys," said Harri, "This is bad. We've been here about an hour and we've beaten Hagrid's, Professor Sprout's, and Professor Flitwicks' obstacles. That's half of them. These chess-pieces are clearly Professor McGonagall's work. If Grave-robber or his wizard are any decent at chess, they'll be through this chamber in short order. That leaves only Professors' Snape and Quirrell and the Headmaster as the obstacles left. I can't imagine Snape or the Headmaster using a _troll_, so that must be Professor Quirrell's obstacle. I can't imagine that a troll would take much time for Grave-robber to handle. That means there are only two obstacles left and if they're like the rest they won't slow down Grave-robber more than a few minutes."

They looked at each other. "Wait," said Ron. "If Professor Quirrell's obstacle is a troll," he said suspiciously, "then what the bloody hell was that whole troll thing at Halloween about? I mean, if he can control trolls, why the hell was he running around like a wanking poof?"

"Language, Ron," Minie said reflexively.

That meant that Professor Quirrell was probably the wizard helping Voldemort, Harri realized.

"And why didn't the Headmaster put one and one together to get two if he knew Quirrell was using a troll as his obstacle? That's rank stupidity!" Hermione was working herself into a rant. "If he knew Quirrell was using a troll, then he should have known who let that other troll in. And if Quirrell could control a troll, why wasn't he doing something useful about the one in the dungeon instead of leaving him for us? Did he _want_ a student to get killed? What is _wrong_ with the professors here?" She continued in a similar vein while Harri mulled things over.

It didn't add up. Everyone told Harri that Hogwarts had the best protective wards in the world and yet a troll had managed to get inside the Castle and attack students. A professor working for the Dark Lord had clearly deceived the Headmaster, and possibly the wards as well. And that didn't begin to describe the dangers in the Forbidden Forest. Hogwarts was either safe for students or it wasn't, and the evidence was mounting that the place was downright _dangerous_. And the Headmaster not only knew of these problems but at best was indifferent and at worst approved of them. That he didn't take protecting the Stone seriously was obvious by their successful penetration of his approved obstacles. Harri sighed, dejected. She was becoming disenchanted with the Wizarding World.

Neville interrupted, "Stop! We'll worry about that later. Focus on this problem first."

"Clearly," Harri started, "the obstacles are not good enough if four Firsties can breeze through them like we just did." She stared at the floor, thinking. "We need to add our own obstacles."

"What?" asked Ron, astonished. "We're kids, how can we come up with obstacles that will stop an adult wizard, much less even slow him down!"

Harri started to smile, "Easy, we just add to what's there already. What if we add a spell to the Fluffy's door — a spell that immediately wakes him when anyone starts to open that door? Having Fluffy awake and growling before you even get in the room would make things a lot harder. And another spell that makes a constant noise loud enough to drown out any music when the trap door is touched? If Fluffy wakes up every time he tries to lift the trapdoor, Grave-robber will have to fight Fluffy. Or how about a spell that makes the Devil's Snare immune to light and heat?"

By the time she finished, they were all smiling.

"Let's head back and start planning."

Getting back up to Fluffy was easy, Harri gave the other three rides up, and kept the broom when they closed the trapdoor. She also kept the flying key to the Key Room door. Just in case someone tried to get the Stone before they did their spells.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Minie's fixation on getting the best grades possible made it difficult to drag her away from revising her school notes and to research the spells they would need, not to mention the practice each spell required to master it completely. They could have divided the spells up, but then if anything went wrong they were buggered. Better safe than sorry, so they all learned the spells.

Thus, it took them another three weeks, almost to the middle of June, to return to the forbidden third floor corridor on the right-hand side with their prepared spells. This time they brought four brooms with them and a small bottle of blood they had each donated to over the last week until it was half-full. They had had to find and learn a stasis charm to keep the blood fresh.

After sealing the door-lock and putting Fluffy to sleep, they flew past the Devil's Snare and walked quickly to the Keys Room. Harri took the struggling key out of her pocket and unlocked the door to the Chess Room. That's where Hermione got to work, the chess pieces silently watching.

The quartet doubted the chess pieces would allow Minie to cross the board to the door when she obviously was going to be casting spells. Even if they explained they were trying to strengthen the protections, the chess pieces wouldn't chance believing them. Rather than attempt to cross the board, they had decided to cast them from this side of the board and Minie, it turned out, was the most accurate at aiming her spells.

She dipped the tip of her wand in the bottle of blood and cast the _imago_ reflection charm on the door and the entire opposite wall. If the wizard tried simply to blast the door in frustration, perhaps the reflected spell would take him out as well, or hurt him at the very least. She followed that up with _silex silicis, _at the door, twice_,_ first turning it and then its hinges into solid stone, each time redipping her wand in the bottle. Now it would take multiple applications of a bloodless _finite incantatem_ to undo the spells she had layered on the door, unless the wizard used his blood to amplify his spells as well. If he didn't then maybe they would frustrate the wizard enough to use violence and hurt himself with the reflected spell.

They backtracked to the Key Room, stopping first to repeat their delaying spells on the door _into_ the Chess Room. In the Key Room Ron and Harry used their brooms to catch thirty-eight of the keys and stuff them into a bag. Harri took her wand and liberally coated the end of it with blood. Minie held the bag and left an opening just large enough for a wand to fit. Nev kept the squirming door-key firmly in hand. Harri poked her wand into the bag, put her other hand on the door-key, and transfigured the captured keys into exact duplicates of the original, with one difference.

Ron reached into the bag and retrieved one key. They compared it to the original and found them indistinguishable. He turned around, inserted it into the lock, and watched as it changed back to its original shape, rendering it useless for opening the door.

"Perfect," said Minie.

The transfigured keys would revert to their original enchantment the moment the key touched the metal lock on the door. Voldemort, or the wizard, would have to capture each and every one of the thirty-seven keys only to discover at the end that the key that unlocked the door wasn't in the room at all. If he tried a _finite incantatem_ on all the keys, the blood spell would protect the thirty-seven while rendering the rest to their original forms. Repeated applications of the spell would result in all of them becoming useless at unlocking the door. So, after wasting all that time, he would have to resort to using his magic to remove their spells on the door.

The red-haired boy released the key, then cast a quick _reparo_ on the keys in the bag to fix any that might have damaged wings. Hermione released the captured keys. Ron dipped his wand in the bottle and cast _imago_ on the door and wall, twice, followed by two applications of _silex ferro_ on the door, its hinges and lock, and turned them into solid metal that looked like their original materials. Only a detection spell would reveal their change.

"I'd like to see how Grave-robber handles this door!" said Neville approvingly

They deliberately left one broom in the Key Room. If they didn't leave the wizard a way to catch the keys, he might go straight to unraveling their spells. Neville cast _noctis antro_, turning the room as dark as a deep cave, and which prevented all but the most powerful lighting and fire charms from working. The wizard would have to spend time removing the spell or try to find the keys in the dark. In any case the more time he wasted trying to get out of the room the more time there would be for the Headmaster to arrive.

Next they applied the same two delaying spells to the closed Key Room entrance door before flying to the Devil's Snare Room and repeating the spells on its exit door. While the other three hovered under the trapdoor, Neville repeated the _noctis antro_ spell. The wizard wouldn't know what was below the trap door until the plant had caught him.

Incendio _would light the room up, alright, but you'd have to do it twice to beat the blood spell! You wouldn't want to be there in the meantime!_ thought Harri, satisfied at their work.

It was a bit like leaving a pool or lake as they exited the trapdoor, one moment they couldn't see anything, the next their heads were coming out of a square of darkness. Neville lay beside the trapdoor and stuck his blood tipped wand into the darkness and cast the widest _non fuge_, no flying, spell he possibly could.

They carefully lowered the trap door. Hermione cast a modified sonorous spell, _concupiscentiam carnis sonus._ If someone moved the trapdoor, it would trigger an unrelenting loud noise. Then Ron cast another _silex silicis_ on the door, making it one piece with the floor. They turned their attention to the Cerberus and cast an _imago_ spell on the sleeping Fluffy. Fluffy, being a monster, was naturally resistant to most spells and it would take a powerful wizard to bring him down. The blood _imago_ made it that much more difficult.

Finally, Harri dropped metal filings into the door hinges to make them screech as the door opened. Not being detectable by magic, they would serve as a muggle-style alarm for Fluffy. They had debated doing more to that door but decided that if Hagrid was feeding Fluffy, they didn't want to make his work any harder. Hopefully, he wouldn't oil the door hinges or try to fix the squeal.

While she did that, Ron slapped a flat rectangular piece of metal on the wall and fixed it in place with a sticking charm. They each had a matching metal piece in their robes. If Fluffy started barking, they would know it as their pieces would get warm and vibrate. If they tapped their metal piece with a wand, it would show whatever was happening in Fluffy's corridor. Muggle security systems brought to wizards!

It was a happy and tired, not so much physically as magically, quartet that made their way to the Great Hall for dinner. They had spent most of the afternoon adding protections to the Philosopher's Stone. They just hoped their additions would delay Grave-robber and Professor Quirrell long enough for the Headmaster to get on the scene and deal with the intruders.

Later that evening, their "security plates" vibrated and when they managed to get to a private place they saw Fluffy finishing his dinner — Hagrid had fed him. Harri thought it was a nice feeling to know that all their hard work was actually doing something.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Exams were every bit as difficult as they had imagined. Even with Hermione's color-coded study guides, and revising their class notes, they found themselves sweating, both literally and figuratively over each and every test. The practicals, while difficult, were actually not as bad as they expected — their extra-curricular research and practice for the Stone had required harder spells and practice than their coursework. The advanced spells made it easier to do the simpler spells on the exams.

To the amazement of his brothers, Ron wasn't complaining bitterly about how unfair the tests were and how awful he was sure he had done — Hermione wouldn't let him. Harri had said "no topless" if he didn't study with them, and annoyed both Ron and Hermione, although for different reasons. Hermione for Harri promising both girls would do it if Ron studied and Ron for Harri promising they wouldn't if he didn't. While the girls being topless tended to distract the boys, they did end up spending far more time studying than they would have otherwise. And Hermione was teaching Harri the study skills she had been discouraged from learning when living with the Dursleys.

Harri had been terribly distracted during the exams by the thought that Grave-robber, with the help of Quirrell, was going to get the Stone in spite of their efforts. She had to remind herself that it would be impossible for her, or any of them, to survive against Professor Quirrell in a duel. As a salesman at Grunnings had said about her being a respectable girl, she had about as much a chance of that as a snowball's chance in hell! Quirrell was, after all, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and much better trained at such things than they were.

That, and her scar had been hurting ever since they had "reinforced" the traps below Fluffy. Harri just hoped that the distractions hadn't hurt her scores too much.

It was the day after the last exam for the First, Second, and Third years — the other years were finishing up in order with the Seventh years finishing late next week. Lunch had been a crowded leisurely affair with many of the students having skipped breakfast in order to sleep late. The Headmaster and the other Professors had seemed in a good humor, so maybe the students had done pretty well on their scores this year. Professor Snape, who still sported a scowl whenever he looked at the students in the Great Hall, had seemed less. . . scowly?. . . than usual. Even Professor Quirrell seemed to be relaxed and happy. Perhaps they were happy the year was finally over.

The quartet were outside by the lake, lazily enjoying the afternoon sun and watching the Weasley twins either annoying or playing with the giant squid. Harri was sulking. Nev and Minie had combined forces and refused to let her to strip so she could sun herself. They had even refused to let her take off her skirt to tan just her legs. And taking off her blouse? Ha! As Minie had said, "Don't even think about it!"

That had been the only thing the Dursleys had let her do at home. They let her sun herself in the backyard for an hour a week during nice weather, lying on the grass or on top of her dress — the towels were for normal people. She had had to "pay" for it, but at least she could _choose_ to do it on occasion. She had been hoping to do that here, without the "pay" part, but her friends had refused to let her. She was wondering if she might find a spot on the Castle roof or battlements where no one could see her.

On the other hand, her scar, which had been hurting like the blazes for the last week, was pain free today.

"Why do you think they give us almost a week after exams before sending us all home? Seems a great waste of time. I mean, at University as soon as you finish your exams off you go home! Even the Secondarys let the students leave once exams are completed."

Ron and Harri looked at each other and shrugged at Hermione.

Neville spoke up, watching as the squid picked up Fred — or was it George? — and tossed him halfway to the middle of the lake. "I think it's so the Hogwarts' Express doesn't have to make a bunch of trips back and forth. It must be expensive to run the train empty, and that's what it would be half the time. This way they only have to make one trip." The other twin quickly followed his brother.

"Why do we have to take the train, anyway?" asked Harri. "Why can't everyone just use the Floo or disapparate with parents?"

"Wards, I think," answered Nev. "My Gran said trying to move hundreds of students through the few Floo's at Hogwarts would be a nightmare, and the muggle-born don't know how to Floo and that would slow things down. Not to mention so many first-timers getting lost.

"And having a whole bunch of Floo's, like at the Ministry, would be a security nightmare. Trying to set them up and take them down four times a year would be time consuming and even more expensive.

The twins were having great fun as the squid repeatedly threw them around the lake.

"Plus," he added, "using the train gives the Castle Wards time to adjust to the huge number of students coming or going without it being one big shock."

They mulled that over lazily. Harri's scar began to throb slightly.

Harri heard a distant buzzing to her left, like a bee, only it held steady, neither getting closer nor going away. She shifted slightly the right, and the buzzing got louder. She sat up and the buzzing stopped. She looked behind herself, she had been using her robes as a pillow. The plate!

"Fluffy!" she cried aloud as she grabbed her robe and started rummaging through the pockets looking for the security plate. The others started scrambling through their robes.

Harri tapped the plate with her wand and looked into the room. After turning the plate right-side up she could see spells flashing from beside the plate in the corridor but couldn't see who was doing it. Fluffy wasn't backing down and was trying to pin the Wizard with his paws.

"We gotta tell the Headmaster," yelled the girl as she sprinted to the Castle. Harri had plenty of practice running from Dudley and his gang and hit the Quidditch Pitch Entrance well before the others. She stopped and looked both ways. Where _was_ the Headmaster's Office?

While she dithered the others caught up.

"Merlin, but you're fast," gasped Ron.

Neville just leaned against the wall, wheezing. Minie was the last in and she didn't look any better than the other two.

"Minie! Which way is the Headmaster's Office?" demanded Harri, frantically.

Behind her, from above their heads came a voice, "Um, pardon me, did you say you wanted the Headmaster's Office?"

She spun around and looked up. In a frame just above their heads and across from the side entrance was a man in red robes.

"Sorry, I couldn't help but hear you. If you're looking for the Headmaster's Office, it's on the third floor, behind the Gargoyle. The Grand Staircase Tower is that way, about fifty yards, then take the fourth staircase on the right," he said as he pointed with his wand. "Take the left corridor and look for the Gargoyle on the left."

"Thanks," called Harri as she took off running. The other three groaned and started after her. Neville bowed to the Wizard, "Thank you, sir. . . ?"

"It's Google Stump, and my pleasure to be of help," the wizard in the painting smiled.

"Neville Longbottom, sir." Neville raced off after the others.

Harri skidded into the Grand Staircase Tower, barely stopping in time to avoid colliding with Professor McGonagall who had an armload of parchments. She stopped, panting, "Sorry, Professor. Do you know where the Headmaster is? I've got something terribly important to tell him."

"Miss Potter, you know there's no running in the halls."

Harri blinked, uh oh, Consequences. . . .

"I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall," she took a deep breath, "but it's very important that I get to the Headmaster."

Ron charged into the Tower, slowly so suddenly that Hermione ran into him, almost knocking them both down. The professor stared at them.

"_What_ is going on here?" the woman demanded.

"Er, um, sorry Professor, it won't happen again," Hermione hesitantly replied as she and Ron straightened and separated.

"Professor!"

The woman returned her stare to Harri.

The small student gulped, and in a quieter voice continued, "It's really important that we find the Headmaster, Professor. It's about the Stone. You know, the Philosopher's Stone hidden under the trap door that Fluffy sits on? Well, anyway, someone's trying to steal it."

"How do you know about the Stone?" demanded the professor frostily. "And what were you doing on the third floor corridor when you've been expressly told to avoid it?"

The three exchanged glances. Should they tell her about the security plates?

"Well," Harri started, "We were worried that someone would try to steal the Philosopher's Stone after we learned that someone was killing unicorns to drink their blood to stay alive, which is a terrible thing to do unless you plan to do something more permanent real soon, that's what the centaurs told me, and the only way to do that is with the Philosopher's Stone. So we snuck into the corridor. . . ."

"ENOUGH!" roared the professor. "Ten points EACH from Gryffindor for directly disobeying the order to stay away from that corridor. You WILL stay away from there or there WILL be consequences! Do you _understand_? The Stone is of no consequence to you!"

Neville came running into the Tower, staggering.

"You will all," and here the Professor stared at each of them in turn, staring the longest at Neville, "go back outside and STAY outside until dinner, when you will eat and then go to your dorm and STAY there. Understand?"

The four nodded.

"The Stone is completely safe. You do not need to worry about it. Besides, you cannot speak with the Headmaster right now as he is on his way to London on an emergency. He will be gone all evening. If you must, you can speak with him tomorrow. Now, GO!" She pointed towards the front Entrance Hall.

"Yes ma'am," the four chorused, and scrambled to escape, walking fast, but not so fast as to be accused of running.

"Well," whispered Minie furiously, "that could have gone better," as they walked quickly out the Castle Front Entrance.

"What're we gonna do?"

Rona and Neville just looked at Harri. "What _can_ we do?" Neville asked.

Minie sighed as they stopped in the Front Courtyard. "We've already done everything we can."

"An owl, we need to send an owl to the Headmaster! We have to tell him that someone's trying to steal the Stone. Minie," Harri turned to girl, "do you have any parchment?"

Ron snorted.

"Yes," she replied, "but they're in my robes."

They had all taken off for the castle so fast none had thought to grab their robes.

"Right," said Harri. She turned and sprinted for the lake and their robes.

Ron groaned, but they started after her.

By the time Minie and Ron arrived Harri had found the parchment and quill and was just finishing the note telling the Headmaster that they had heard Fluffy barking and spells being cast, but that Professor McGonagall had insisted everything was alright, but they knew someone was trying to get Stone. And he had to hurry straight back before it was too late.

Harri put two fingers in her mouth and took a deep breath to whistle when she saw a white owl gliding towards them. "Hedwig!" she cried. "Quick, as fast as you can, get this message to the Headmaster. It's truly a life or death matter. Go!" The owl gave a loud bark and took off, rapidly disappearing from sight.

Neville came staggering up just as Harri pulled out her plate. It looked peaceful, with Fluffy lying quietly a bit farther down the corridor than they had seen before. You wouldn't have thought anything had happened from the view they could see.

"Do you think Fluffy chased him away?" asked Ron.

"Maybe," answered Harri.

They looked at each other uncertainly.

The next two hours crawled by. They spent half their time staring at the metal plates, waiting for something to happen. But nothing did. Harri's scar continued to throb with pain, nothing too dramatic, but enough to put an edge on everything she said.

It was after dinner, when they were in the Common Room, that Minie noticed something wrong on the plates. Fluffy hadn't moved in over three hours! No animal sleeps in the exact same position for that long.

"He got by Fluffy! What should we do?" Ron asked.

"Nothing," replied the bushy-haired brunette, "The Headmaster should be here soon."

"But you don't _know_ that for a fact. And how far has Volde. . . Grave-robber made it?" asked Harri.

She knew that if Voldemort got the Stone, she was next on his list of things to do. He might not know that Harry was Harri, but it wouldn't take him long to figure it out if he was that powerful of a wizard. And he had unfinished business with her, not to mention revenge for whatever had happened ten years before.

"Doesn't matter," said Minie, "There's nothing we can do and you know it. None of us would last one second if that. . . wizard attacked us."

"But," Harri said, "we can't let him just get it and run away before the Headmaster returns."

"We could do what we did already, that should slow him down," suggested Neville. "Yes, he can make it through our spells, but it'll take him time, and that might be enough for the Headmaster to get here. If not, well, at least we know we tried!"

"But how will we get there?" asked Hermione. "We can't just walk out. You heard Professor McGonagall, she'll kill us! Or worse, expel us! She said there would be consequences if we went to that corridor."

Harri smiled. "I've got just the thing, remember Ron?"

Ron stared at Harri blankly for a few seconds then his eyes got big, "Blimey," he whispered, "Right!"

Harri darted up the stairs to her dorm room and dived into her trunk. It took her only seconds to grab the invisibility cloak and return.

Hermione and Neville were stunned when they saw the cloak hidden underneath her robes. "Okay, Ron and you, Nev, go up to your dorm room and we'll follow, like we're going to talk or something."

Once in the room, they quickly developed a strategy and, five minutes later, they were under the cloak and hovering by the portrait entrance. Fortunately, there were still a few students returning to the dorm from the Great Hall. A tense ten minutes later, the portrait door opened and two sixth years came in. Harri shot a quick pinching hex across the room, and that end of the room erupted into a shouting match. Using that as a cover, they managed to make their way out the entrance without anyone noticing it took much longer for the portrait door to close than normal.

They stayed at the edge of the corridors and made their way as quickly as possible to the third floor corridor on the right-hand side. A quick _alohomora_ and they were through the door. Their security plates were insufficient to provide the details they needed to show the corridor had endured a violent altercation. Fluffy wasn't dead, but he was barely alive. They quickly debated telling Hagrid, but decided they couldn't waste the time it would take to convince him they weren't trying to prank him.

The trap door Fluffy had guarded was gone, leaving a huge hole in the floor. They looked at each other. Once more, Minie lowered Harri into the Devil's Snare room. Their darkness spell was gone, and so was the Devil's Snare. Nothing remained but ashes. The remains of the door hung at an angle by a single hinge. They all gulped.

"_Reparo_," Hermione said. The door slowly flew back together.

Harri took out her silver potions' knife and cut her wrist, dragging her wand through the blood as it pooled up. Just another scar to add to the others there. "_Reparo_," she said, pointing at the door. The door shimmied a bit and somehow seemed more solid than it had a moment before. Silently, she opened the door and they filed through. Once in the passage, she closed the door, she again dragged her wand through the blood on her wrist and cast _silex ferro_ on the door, twice. Then she cast _imago_. They didn't know how much this would slow down the wizard trying to leave with the Stone, but even if it was only seconds it would be worth it.

They hurried to the blasted open Key Room door, and Ron repeated what Harri had done to the other door, dragging his wand through the blood on her wrist, which had slowed to a minor seep. The room was eerily silent, the keys all gone and various trinkets scattered across the floor. There were not nearly as many items as there had been keys. Harri had the impression that the wizard had reduced a number of the keys to dust. Neville handled the chore of restoring the Key Room exit door and resetting their spells, cutting a vein on his left arm to provide the blood. Afterwards he healed the cut, and Harri's too. She distractedly noted that it did not leave a scar.

As they approached the Chess Room entrance they heard spells being cast. Cautiously, they peered into the room around the ruins of the door.

The Chess pieces were rubble, not a single piece remained intact. There was a large mound of rubble by the exit door where they could see a wizard. He was just standing there, facing the door, and not moving. Harri's scar began to hurt in earnest, making it difficult for her to concentrate. The quartet exchanged looks. Harri pulled out her cloak and they all crowded under it again and waited.

Harri could hear the wizard talking to himself. "Master," he said, "I must rest a bit between the spells, these are quite taxing spells. Using _reducto_ on the other doors took far too much power from me."

"Enough of your excuses, remove the spells!" said the other raspy voice.

"Y-Yes, Master."

Where was the other wizard? Was he invisible? Or had he cast a Notice-Me-Not spell and they didn't see him?

The wizard she could see began casting _finite incantatem_ repeatedly.

The four students stole as quietly as possible into the room. Their plan was simple. Hide. When the wizard left this room, they would repeat their spells on the doors and follow him farther. They would not confront the wizard. They watched as he slowly dismantled their spells.

After two minutes by Hermione's watch, the wizard cast a final _finite incantatem_ and pushed the door open to walk through. Her scar immediately ceased hurting as much, she could think again.

After giving him five minutes to walk to the next door, they slowly made their way around the perimeter of the room, trying not to make any noise as they avoided the rubble. They listened carefully at the exit door.

"Once we know he's through the next room, Minie, you and Ron come back here, fix the doors, and reset the spells. Then hide. Neville and I will do the same to the doors in the next room. That way he won't suspect that you are hiding there. After all, how could the ones resetting the spells set the spells in rooms they sealed themselves out of? If we're lucky he'll think that the Headmaster just had the spells reset themselves."

They nodded, and the four slowly made their way through the passage to the next room. Just as Hermione had thought, this was the troll room, and it had taken the wizard only moments to deal with it. The exit door was already open. It looked as if the wizard had finished before they had even crossed the floor of the previous room. Harri turned to Hermione and Ron and motioned them to go back. They did.

Neville looked at Harri. She couldn't help but notice he was shaking a little bit. Well, so was she. "Confidence, Nev, Confidence!" He slowly nodded.

She took her knife and cut her wrist again. This door was intact, saving her a spell. Moments later it was a solid piece of the wall itself, with two blood _imago_ spells to reinforce it. "Come on Nev, let's hurry, I think I'm about to pass out from the smell of the troll." He was holding his nose with his free hand.

Before sealing the door, they checked the other end of the passage. The door there was open and no one was in the room. Moving as fast as was safe they sealed both doors, but they had no sooner stepped away from door than purple flames appeared. On the opposite wall, black flames hid the other door. "Well," said Harri, "That should help slow the bugger down."

"And us," added Neville.

"Well as someone famous once said, 'if it was easy, then anyone could do it.'"

Neville stared at her.

The room held only a table with seven bottles on it, and a parchment. They read the parchment. Neville looked up at Harri. "Huh?"

Harri sighed, "It's a logic puzzle, and I am just bollocks at those." She stared at the bottles, and then she squatted and really _looked_ at the bottles.

"Harri, you can't _see_ which one is the one we want."

She smiled broadly. "Oh, yes I can!"

She reached over and picked up the smallest bottle. "Look, this one is less than half full and the rest are all completely full. There's no wizard in here, so it can't be one of the two wines, and there's no body on the floor, so it can't be one of the three poisons. We didn't meet him coming here, so it can't be the one to return. Someone used this bottle and not the others, so it must be the right bottle.

"We'll both take a sip, and see if we can pass through the flames. If we can't, no harm done. If we can, then we'll seal the passageway doors and trap him the last room. In either case, we hide in here under the cloak until the Headmaster returns."

Neville nodded. Harri took the first sip and handed the rest to Neville. She shuddered, it was like drinking a really cold glass of water. She could feel the cold hitting her stomach and spreading out into her body. They both walked to the far door. She slowly put her arm in front of her and walked into the flames. They were cold, but not hurtfully so. She continued onward.

They were so buggered, she realized almost immediately. There wasn't a passage with a door at the end. They were already in the final room. And Professor Quirrell was directly before them. Oh, boy, did she ever need Consequences now!

"Well, well, well. What have we here?"

All trace of his stutter was gone. He seemed relaxed, but there was an air of tiredness about him. Had he exhausted himself going through their delaying spells? Did she dare hope?

"Miss Potter and Mr. Longbottom! What brings you here, I wonder?" He flicked his wand and ropes wrapped around them, binding them and preventing their escape. He peered at them intently as he came over and took their wands from their hands. "Well?" he asked.

Harri looked over at Neville. Terrified at what he was watching the boy didn't look as if he could talk — much less say anything coherent. He was so pasty white he made Professor Snape look as if he had a tan. Professor Quirrell still smelled strongly of garlic, but now there was an undertone of something rotten.

"Um, well, we were walking around after dinner," Harri hesitantly started, "and we noticed that the door on the third floor corridor wasn't closed, so we decided to take a gander, to see what the fuss was all about. We saw the Cerberus, it looked dead, and there were definite signs of spells. Then there was that big round hole in the floor."

"Fools. Instead of going to the staff to tell someone, you decided to investigate things yourselves, didn't you? Naturally, you think two First Year students can take on an adult wizard." He shook his head, amazed at their perceived stupidity. "Well, bad for you, then, and good for me. Especially with Albus off on a wild goose chase to the Ministry for the evening."

She gazed at him steadily. Had to be careful now, didn't want him to realize they had reset their spells and that there were actually four of them and not just Harri and Neville. "Uh, well, we did, actually. We went and told Professor McGonagall, but all she did was say that everything was just fine and took points off our House for being in the corridor with the Cerberus."

He laughed loudly, delighted, it seemed, at the obtuseness of his opponents. "You should have gone to Professor Snape, he would have believed you."

"But aren't you and he working together?" Confuse the issue and let him think they didn't trust the professor.

He laughed again. "Hardly. He used to be devoted to my Dark Lord, but no more! Not that it matters. Dealing with him would only have taken a few moments." He paused to look at the two students. The change from the Professor they knew to this wizard was remarkable, Harri thought, they were like two diametrically different people. Only the robes and turban were the same.

"And yet, here you are. Did you think you could stop me?"

"Oh, no!" she shook her head violently. "We know we'd be jolly well buggered if we tried that. We were just going to sneak after and then hide. The plan was to see who nicked the Stone and tell the Headmaster."

The Wizard stared at her intently. "You know about the Stone?

"Oh, yes, when we heard that the Headmaster was hiding something for Nicolas Flamel, and that he had made the Philosopher's Stone, well, it was rather obvious, wasn't it?" She looked back at him. "But why? That's what I don't get. Why would you want," she cut her eyes to Neville, "Voldemort to return?" Where was the other wizard she had heard talking? She wished she could warn Nev to keep an eye out for the other wizard.

"Ah," he said, smiling broadly. "That's a story for another time. Suffice to say that the Dark Lord is very powerful and he has shown me things that demonstrate he has a better vision for the future of the Wizarding World than the so-called Light Lords do." He turned his gaze on Neville.

Harri took a moment to look around the room. It was large with a high ceiling, like her muggle-school gymnasium. At the other end from them was a small raised stage with piece of furniture. She couldn't get a good look at it. Was it a mirror?

"Enough of this, I've wasted too much time already on those stupid door spells. If not for them I would have been from here hours ago." He turned and stalked to the stage.

Harri suddenly had a blinding headache, the kind that make it difficult to think. She would have pressed her hand to her head scar if she weren't bound.

"Where is it hidden? I can see myself giving the Stone to my Master, but where is it hidden?" He turned to look around the chamber. Harri's scar hurt less, she realized.

"The girl," came a raspy voice, "get the girl. She feels. . . familiar."

Where was that other wizard?

"But Master," the professor whined, "what can she do that I cannot?" He turned a bit to face Harri. "Get the girl, fool!" came the voice again.

He waved his wand at the two students, but only the ropes binding Harri disappeared. She didn't move quickly enough for him, apparently. "Move, now!" he ordered. Her scar had receded to dull roar of pain.

She crossed the room, trying to control her shaking legs and arms. She was scared near-to-death by what was happening, but she didn't dare show it. She kept Consequences firmly in front.

She realized the furniture on the stage was an upright mirror as she climbed the two steps to the platform. The professor motioned her to stand between him and the mirror.

Looking at the mirror, she realized it was the Mirror of Desire. Unlike the previous times, though, she was alone in the reflection. In fact, the reflection looked exactly like a regular mirror.

"Well, what do you see," he demanded impatiently.

She couldn't very well say nothing, so she decided to steal from Ron. "Um, uh, I see myself holding the Quidditch Cup, and, uh, oh! I'm the Head Girl!" she blurted out. As she frantically tried to think of something else to mislead the professor and keep him from getting the Stone, her reflection reached inside her robes and lifted a red stone into view. Her reflection smirked, then put the stone back in her pocket. Harri's eyes widened in understanding as she felt a weight settle into her left pocket. Somehow, her reflection had put the Philosopher's Stone in her pocket!

"You stupid muff," Quirrell said, and pushed her away from the mirror. She stumbled back down the steps, trying to put as much distance between the two of them as she could without it being obvious. The Headmaster should be here soon, all she had to do was delay.

"Let me see," demanded the voice.

"But Lord, you are still weak and we expended much magic," argued the professor.

"Silence! I have the strength for this. Let me see!"

"Y-Yes, Master." The professor put his wand in a pocket and began to remove his out-sized turban, unwinding it carefully. He was partially facing the mirror and Harri, and what she saw as he removed the turban was horrifying.

On the back of his head, hidden under the turban, was a face. No, a parody of a face. It was thin, distorted to fit the shape of Quirrell's head, chalk white, with slits for nostrils, like a snake, instead of a normal nose. The eyes were blood-red, glaring at the small girl. And it wasn't even centered on the back of his head. The pain in her scar grew worse.

Harri took a step back, this. . . thing. . . was Lord Voldemort she instinctively knew. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was turned so that both faces could see her. How had the Castle wards missed detecting something so vilely evil? How could the Headmaster have _not_ noticed such evil when sitting not five feet away in the Great Hall during meals?

"Yes, I see. The girl does feel familiar. . . almost like I know her. But no matter. She is weak, but not without a small amount of cunning. Give me the Stone you have in your pocket, girl, and I shall let you live."

Harri turned to take off running. She had to get away. She frantically searched for anything that might help.

Professor Quirrell lunged at her the same time as she heard Voldemort yell, "SEIZE HER!"

Harri was fast, but Quirrell's longer legs and reach made it a short chase. They tumbled to the floor, with the Professor atop the small child. Harri's scar blazed into painful life, paralyzing her with pain, reducing her resistance to nothing. With a triumphant cry, the man clutched her by the throat with one hand and reached to search her robes for the Stone with the other.

Instead, after barely flipping her robes open, he screamed in pain and released her, clutching one hand with the other. The hand he had gripped her throat with was turning black!

"My hand, Master, my hand!" cried the professor.

"Then KILL her, you fool!"

The professor reached into his robe for his wand, his face wracked with a mixture of determination and pain.

The moment he released her, the pain subsided and she could think again. She bent up to grab at his wand hand, grasping the wrist in both her much smaller hands. She had no hope of stopping him, he was simply too strong as an adult, but if touching her caused pain. . . .

The professor screamed again and his wand clattered to the floor as her scream joined his. He fell sideways to the floor, his legs still half atop her.

As if from far away, she heard a voice yelling "KILL HER! KILL HER!"

She let go of the wizard's hand, it was too painful to continue to hold. For a moment neither moved. Harri knew she had to do something; Quirrell could do wandless magic so he could still bind her and then kill her even without a wand. Maybe she could blind him to get more time to think.

His face contorted in pain and hatred, the wizard stared at her for a second. She lunged toward Quirrell, throwing herself over the man and grabbing his face with her left hand and the back of his head with the other. Queasily, she realized that she could fell the eyes of both Voldemort and Quirrell moving against her palms an instant before pain was the only thing she could feel. And their screams the only things she could hear.

The pain made her want to let go, but knowing he would kill her if she did made her determined to hold on. She maintained her grip on both faces, screaming, wondering if this might not kill her as well, until everything turned black.


End file.
